Gift

The rain would continue until the early hours of the next morning.

Cen Xia clearly remembered the scene in the book: He Wangsheng kept watch at Shi Su's hospital bedside, and Shi Su leaned forward of his own accord and kissed him. The moment their lips touched, the rain stopped and the clouds parted outside the window.

The rain seemed to mirror Shi Su's mood: when he was unhappy, thunder and rain raged together; when he was happy, the rain passed and the sky cleared.

But now the plot was racing down a road it had never taken before, with no turning back. Would the rain still stop?

Cen Xia sat by the window, his fingers lightly tapping the tabletop, again and again, without his realizing it, lost in thought.

Since he had taken Shi Su away from the rooftop, the World Will had made no move at all.

The three elements of a novel were characters, plot, and setting. Its bottom line had fallen so low that it no longer needed the plot to progress; it only needed the characters to appear in the right setting.

Setting: the rooftop.

Main characters: Shi Su, Shen Si, He Wangsheng.

But... He Wangsheng wasn't there.

The world was still functioning normally.

Was it lying, or was there some other reason? Cen Xia couldn't figure it out.

The only explanation seemed to be Chi Zhao, who shouldn't have appeared in this setting. He was a huge variable.

But was that really the case? Cen Xia couldn't be completely certain.

He kept feeling as though he had overlooked something.

"Ring, ring-" The phone's default ringtone suddenly sounded in the quiet hospital room.

Shi Su was sitting on the hospital bed, eating the porridge Ding Yiheng had brought back one spoonful at a time. The sudden blare startled him, making his hand shake, and a small white drop of porridge sloshed from his spoon onto the bedside table.

The two people curled up and dozing on the small companion bed also opened their eyes in fright and looked blankly toward the source of the sound.

Cen Xia was pulled from his thoughts and, a beat late, looked at the ringing phone in his pocket.

It was a call from Lin Jiandu.

Cen Xia went out into the corridor and answered.

As soon as the call connected, Lin Jiandu's anxious voice came through.

"Are you all right? Where are you?"

Cen Xia was bewildered. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"Didn't Shen Si give you a hard time? I saw the photos they posted on the forum." Only after hearing that Cen Xia really was all right did Lin Jiandu's tone soften. "Where are you?"

He asked again, as though he wouldn't give up until he got an answer, so Cen Xia had no choice but to reply, "I'm in the infirmary."

It wasn't that he couldn't lie, but he knew that if Lin Jiandu found out he had lied to him, he would definitely throw a tantrum.

Once Lin Jiandu started, he was hard to coax.

"The infirmary?" Lin Jiandu's voice abruptly rose, sounding a little shrill through the phone. "Why are you in the infirmary? Did Shen Si hit you?"

Unseen at the other end of the call, Lin Jiandu's expression suddenly darkened.

Cen Xia hurried to explain. "No, it's not me. It's my friend."

"Oh." Lin Jiandu's voice grew soft and gentle again, and his expression softened too, as though the person he had been a moment ago were an illusion. "As long as you're all right, Cen Xia."

But the next second, his tone suddenly turned plaintive. "Which friend of yours is it, Cen Xia? The one you were carrying in the photo?"

Cen Xia was struck by a strange impression: he was like a scumbag whose girlfriend had caught him cheating, now being questioned by the girlfriend herself.

He hurriedly shook his head, banishing the absurd thought from his mind, and spoke in a low voice. "It's him. He has a fever."

Lin Jiandu muttered quietly and morosely, his voice soft, as though he had a marshmallow in his mouth. "...Cen Xia, you've never carried me like that."

"Who says I haven't?" Cen Xia retorted without thinking. "I've carried you several times."

"But I was the one who took the initiative every time. Cen Xia, you've never carried me of your own accord, and it was a princess carry!"

Cen Xia truly felt helpless, as though he were dealing with a spoiled partner and everything he said was wrong.

"All right, all right, I'll carry you next time."

Even though he knew Cen Xia was just brushing him off, Lin Jiandu couldn't bear to pretend to be angry. He gave a soft huff, his eyes brimming with laughter, and happily agreed.

How can Cen Xia be so wonderful?

He's cute even when he's brushing me off...

If Cen Xia knew, he'd probably say there was something wrong with me, wouldn't he?

He'd be cute even when insulting me.

After he hung up, the person beside him couldn't help asking with a hint of jealousy, "Who was that? They've made our Xiao Jian so happy."

Facing him, the smile on Lin Jiandu's face faded a little. "A friend."

The man who had been quiet from the start finally spoke, his tone wrapped in an emotion that was hard to pin down. "Just a friend?"

Lin Jiandu raised his eyes to the person sitting upright at the other end of the dining table and tilted his head slightly. A look of pure innocence spread through his eyes as he softly asked in return, "Why do you ask, big brother?"

The man silently held his gaze for a long while, his presence intensely oppressive. Just before the innocent, harmless expression on Lin Jiandu's face could no longer hold, the man's heavy gaze shifted away from him. The candle on the table formed a tiny reflection in his black eyes.

"Let's eat first."

Only after the eldest brother spoke did this family dinner without any elders officially begin.

Lin Jiandu's clear eyes roved around.

It was a family dinner, yet they had gone out of their way to invite him. The lady of the house had never appeared, and his biological father had only come downstairs to show his face before the meal began, then hurried away. At the enormous table, only the Sheng Family's two true young masters remained, along with him, the unwelcome illegitimate son.

His eyes, still clear and bright beneath the dim candlelight, passed over Sheng Heyi without betraying a thing.

This man was always putting on airs.

His gaze shifted again, landing on Sheng Yi'an, who had insisted on sitting beside him.

An idiot.

Of the three of them, he was the child most like Luo Qian.

Just as foolish as Luo Qian.

Lin Jiandu withdrew his gaze and picked up a mouthful of food. It tasted bland, prepared by the kitchen especially to suit Sheng Heyi's tastes.

Even the servants could see that the Sheng Family's future heir could only be Sheng Heyi. Only his father was still dreaming of a married-in son-in-law turning his fortunes around.

At that thought, Lin Jiandu's brow creased slightly, then smoothed out in an instant.

His elder half brother really knew how to pick the best traits to inherit. His scheming mind and shrewdness had all come from that woman, while his looks combined everything attractive about both his parents.

How enviable.

Gifted and intelligent from childhood, dressed in fine clothes and fed on delicacies, perhaps the greatest worry of his life was getting his clothes wet in the rain and having it spoil his mood?

At the thought of today's downpour, which had drawn such a disheveled appearance from Sheng Heyi for once, a trace of secret pleasure rose in Lin Jiandu's heart.

The fabric of his custom-tailored suit had been splashed with dark pigment by the rain, and his meticulously gelled hair had been soaked as well, a few strands hanging over his forehead and softening his cold severity.

His leather shoes had stepped on the ground, picking up a thin layer of water. He wasn't utterly disheveled, really; it was only that his usually orderly attire had been disturbed by the sudden downpour, stripping away his usual polish and composure. Even his normally serene expression had creased slightly.

Lin Jiandu was delighted by it.

In his mind, Sheng Heyi and the word "pretentious" were one and the same.

He hated Sheng Heyi.

He hated him for no reason.

Lin Jiandu poked at the food in his bowl. The Sheng Family's rules were strict, with no talking at meals or in bed. In the vast dining room, only the faint clink of bowls and chopsticks remained. The oppressive silence was suffocating.

Lin Jiandu didn't like this atmosphere. Rather than eat the exquisite food on the table, he would have preferred to dine with Cen Xia on the first floor of the cafeteria.

At the thought of Cen Xia, the corners of Lin Jiandu's lips curved upward almost imperceptibly.

How can there be someone like Cen Xia in this world, someone who makes me so happy?

Does the world feel guilty toward me, so it sent him to make it up to me?

Or is he a gift sent especially for me?