WP Chapter 56

By the time Jiang Yibai woke up, night had already fallen.

He lay in bed staring blankly at the ceiling for a long while before his thoughts finally began to piece themselves together. The first thing that came to mind was what had happened at the police station.

Just the thought of the photo on Sun Chen’s phone made his stomach churn. Everything after that felt hazy, like the night had been wiped away in a blur, as if he’d blacked out from drinking. He couldn’t recall how he’d gotten home or what had happened afterward.

He rubbed his temples and slowly sat up. He was parched, his stomach was growling, and his whole body felt wrong. It was like his head had been stuffed with cotton. No matter how hard he tried to focus, he couldn’t think clearly. The harder he pushed, the more everything turned to fog. That feeling of powerlessness made his chest tighten.

He got out of bed and left the bedroom. The moment he opened the door, he heard movement in the kitchen.

Frowning in confusion, he followed the sound. There, in the middle of a chaotic battlefield of a kitchen, was his boyfriend with apron on, sleeves rolled up, awkwardly trying to beat eggs.

The entire space was a disaster. Pots and pans were spread across the counter, seasoning jars left open and scattered like they were in the middle of a civil war. The floor was soaked in something unidentifiable. Wet vegetable leaves were abandoned on the cutting board, which had so much water pooled on it that it was now spilling steadily down the sides.

Jiang Yibai stood there for a long beat, speechless.

He leaned against the doorframe and watched Si Shaorong clumsily whisk the eggs. A phone had been wedged into a wall hook, playing a cooking tutorial video. Jiang Yibai almost burst out laughing.

And this man dared to say he had a cleanliness obsession? This kitchen looked like a crime scene.

He waited until Si Shaorong was done with the eggs and had set the bowl down. Then he cleared his throat softly from behind.

Si Shaorong reacted in a way Jiang Yibai hadn’t expected at all. He jolted upright, nearly knocking over the bowl, and spun around with wide eyes full of shock and worry, as if Jiang Yibai were a ghost that wasn’t supposed to be standing there.

“What’s wrong?” Jiang Yibai blinked, puzzled.

Si Shaorong didn’t answer. He just stared at him without blinking. Seeing that Jiang Yibai’s tone sounded completely normal, he let out a silent sigh of relief, only to find himself growing even more tense.

Carefully, he asked, “You’re awake?”

Jiang Yibai smiled, walked over, and wrapped his arms around him, planting a kiss on his cheek. “I’m starving. How long did I sleep? Why are you cooking?”

Si Shaorong swallowed hard. He let Jiang Yibai nuzzle into his chest but couldn’t find it in himself to feel even a hint of desire. His gaze stayed fixed on his lover’s face as he asked quietly, “Do you feel… anything off?”

“No, nothing really,” Jiang Yibai said, puzzled. “Just starving… and kind of nauseous.”

But the moment he mentioned nausea, the image of that photo flashed across his mind again, and his chest gave a sudden, involuntary lurch.

Si Shaorong noticed his change in expression immediately and reached out to steady him. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick somewhere?”

Jiang Yibai shook his head, but Si Shaorong pulled him into a tighter embrace. His voice brushed softly against his ear, low and gentle. That sound struck something deep in Jiang Yibai. Something out of place, something almost uncanny.

He froze in Si Shaorong’s arms. The voice curled around him like a spell, coaxing him gently, drawing him out of the fog that had muddled his senses since the breakdown. And then, like surfacing from deep underwater, he remembered.

That voice. That same gentle voice had been speaking to him through the haze of his sleep the entire time. It had never stopped. Over and over it had whispered to him:

“I’m here.”
“I won’t leave.”
“You’re not alone.”
“I love you.”
“You’ll be okay.”
“One day, we’ll find a quiet place and disappear together…”

Si Shaorong, usually so quiet and reserved, had spent the entire day murmuring those words into his ear, repeating them endlessly, never once complaining or getting tired.

The pieces of memory began falling back into place. Jiang Yibai stared blankly for a few seconds before he suddenly straightened and grabbed his boyfriend’s shoulders.

“Where are Sun Chen and Chen Yi? Are they still at the police station?”

Si Shaorong blinked. For a moment, he had completely forgotten about those two troublemakers.

He quickly raised a hand in reassurance and called Zhen Zhen, who had helped them contact someone at the station earlier. She returned with the update a few moments later.

“Not long after you left,” she said over speakerphone, “the station confiscated Sun Chen’s phone and contacted both the school and the families. They were fined and scolded, then picked up and taken home in the afternoon.”

Jiang Yibai fell silent.

He had known it was impossible to keep things under wraps. He hadn’t really expected to shield them completely. Still, he had hoped to at least help handle the matter with that predator before the situation escalated any further.

Now look what happened. Not only had he failed to help, he had ended up collapsing himself.

“When you mess up, you deal with the consequences,” Si Shaorong said gently. “Don’t worry. Chen Yi was the victim. They won’t punish him unfairly.”

His phone was still on speaker, and Zhen Zhen, unaware of the full context, chimed in, “I heard one of the kids got beaten pretty badly by his family. He didn’t make a sound the whole time. Pretty tough little guy.”

Jiang Yibai flinched. “Was it Chen Yi? That doesn’t make sense. His family usually spoils him.”

“I don’t think it was the Chen kid,” Zhen Zhen said. “Not sure who’s who. What exactly happened? You two weren’t dragged into it, were you?”

Si Shaorong cut in, “We’ll explain later. Thanks again.”

Si Shaorong hung up the phone and rested his hands on his knees, looking at Jiang Yibai. “Feel better now?”

Jiang Yibai frowned slightly. “What about Zheng Yu? Are they really just letting him go after paying some medical fees?”

“He was never going to tell the truth, and I doubt he dared ask for compensation either,” Si Shaorong replied. “Zhen Zhen said it was just a fine. Sun Chen and Chen Yi probably didn’t say everything, maybe to keep it from turning into a bigger deal.”

He didn’t want Jiang Yibai getting pulled back into it. The last thing he needed was another emotional collapse. “Stop thinking about it, okay? Let someone else handle it. You should just stay home and rest these next couple of days, yeah?”

Jiang Yibai glanced at him, already guessing what he was trying to do. His chest warmed, but he also felt a little embarrassed. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and muttered, “You don’t have to do all this. I’m fine now.”

Si Shaorong froze. “You… remember?”

Jiang Yibai shifted over to sit next to him, wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and gave him a few light pats. “Sorry. Did I scare you?”

After a whole day of mentally bracing himself, Si Shaorong had finally calmed down. But hearing Jiang Yibai speaking so gently now, even offering comfort, brought back everything all at once. His throat tightened, and his eyes flushed red.

It was like he was the one who’d been through hell. He grabbed hold of Jiang Yibai and buried his face against his neck, mumbling in a choked voice, “You didn’t scare me. Nothing you do would ever scare me. I just… I just feel awful for you.”

Jiang Yibai felt the dampness at his neck and winced. His chest pulled tight with guilt. He cursed himself inwardly, wrapped his arms around Si Shaorong, and rubbed his back hard. “It’s over. I’m okay now. It just hit me too fast. I didn’t see it coming.”

“Don’t comfort me!” Si Shaorong held him tighter and mumbled hoarsely, “You’re the one hurting. Why are you comforting me? You’re not allowed to comfort me.”

Jiang Yibai didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He leaned in and kissed his boyfriend’s ear. “All right. I get it. I won’t comfort you.”

Still holding him close, he swayed him gently. “Then will you kiss me instead? Come on, kiss me and make me feel better.”

Si Shaorong blushed and leaned in to press a quick kiss on his cheek, then immediately hid his face again.

Jiang Yibai watched him with a grin. This version of his so-called cold, aloof boyfriend was completely off-brand. He couldn’t hold in his laughter.

Si Shaorong peeked out at him with reddened eyes. “What are you laughing at?”

Jiang Yibai glanced up at him, and Si Shaorong immediately buried his face again. Amused, Jiang Yibai chuckled softly and said, “I just feel really lucky to have you. I’m not alone this time. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Si Shaorong stayed quiet for a long time before murmuring, “If you feel like you’re still not okay… I’ll go with you to see a therapist.”

Jiang Yibai hummed in response and leaned against his shoulder, staring off blankly as he spoke slowly. “I don’t know what happened. I thought I was fine. I really did. Li Xun told me before that he saw Zheng Yu, and I thought I’d prepared myself.”

Si Shaorong froze, then sat bolt upright. “When did this happen? Was it when we borrowed the car? Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“He didn’t get a clear look. Just said it seemed like him. I figured I’d tell you later. It might not have been him anyway. Maybe he was wrong.”

Who would have thought it really was him? And that fate would turn in such an absurd circle. Looking back now, Li Xun must have seen him at the same gay bar where Chen Yi and Sun Cheng got into that fight.

There are some people and some things that no one can ever truly avoid, and maybe they were never meant to be avoided in the first place.

“I just thought maybe I’d ask him for answers,” Jiang Yibai continued. “To finally clear things up. He still owes me money, too. Not much, but still. It’d be something. Closure, maybe. But I didn’t expect that just seeing his picture would mess me up like that.”

He looked up at Si Shaorong and said, “You’re not mad, right? That I’m this useless.”

Si Shaorong couldn’t help himself. He thumped Jiang Yibai on the back. “Why would I be mad?! You think I’m that kind of person?!”

He’d never really hit Jiang Yibai before, and this time it was a solid hit. Jiang Yibai burst out laughing and coughed a little from the impact. Si Shaorong immediately pulled him back into his arms, guilt washing over his face as he rubbed his back again.

Jiang Yibai leaned on him and muttered, “I really don’t know what came over me. It was like I got hexed or something. My brain just stopped working.”

He still couldn’t clearly recall how he’d reacted, but what he did remember was that Si Shaorong had been by his side the entire time.

“Did I look scary?” he asked hesitantly.

“No,” Si Shaorong shook his head, gently rubbing his hands and his back. “You just… looked like someone I wanted to hold. You looked like someone who needed to be comforted. But it felt like you couldn’t hear me at all.”

His voice wavered at the end. The tip of his nose reddened again, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself.

Jiang Yibai looked up, smiled, and gave him a kiss on the chin. “I could hear you. I did. Thank you.”

Si Shaorong’s lips pressed into a line, eyes darkening. He didn’t say anything, only pulled Jiang Yibai closer into his arms.

That night, a call came in from Li Xun.

The background noise was chaotic, and over the phone they could hear someone crying and screaming nonstop, a pitiful voice begging for forgiveness, like a pig being slaughtered.

Li Xun had a cigarette dangling from his lips, his words muffled and half-slurred. “If you don’t smash your fucking head to the ground a hundred times, don’t even think about getting up. That last one doesn’t count. Your forehead didn’t even touch the floor. I said smash it!”

Jiang Yibai: “…”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Young Master Li, what scene are you acting out now? Want me to bring popcorn and cheer you on?”

Li Xun replied, “Cleaning up trash. Just letting you know, I’m settling both your student’s grudge and yours.”

Jiang Yibai froze for a second, then frowned. “Where are you?”

“Doesn’t matter. You don’t need to know. And don’t come. No need to dirty your eyes,” Li Xun said.

Si Shaorong leaned over, concern thick in his voice. “Li Xun, don’t go too far. Don’t get yourself in trouble.”

He didn’t care what happened to Zheng Yu, but he did care if Li Xun landed himself in real danger over something like this. It wasn’t worth it.

Li Xun let out a short laugh. “Come on, Mr. Author, sounds like you’ve been writing too many novels. Don’t worry. I know where the line is.”

Jiang Yibai knew Li Xun was doing this for him, acting out of loyalty and trying to shield him from another collapse. But this wasn’t something anyone else could fix on his behalf.

The one who tied the knot had to untie it. If he had fallen in one place, then he needed to get back up in that same place.

Besides, he wasn’t the same as he was back then.

Back then, he thought he had a whole gang of brothers, always surrounded by people, doing whatever he pleased. But how many of them had truly cared about him?

Now, his circle was small. He barely had enough people to call it a “group.” He might even have to count his students just to pad the numbers. But every one of them was sincere. Every one of them had a genuine heart.

He had Si Shaorong now. And not just Si Shaorong. He had Li Xun, Zhou Yuanyuan, Zhen Zhen, Sun Ying, Sun Chen, Chen Yi…

Things were different now.

“Send me the address,” Jiang Yibai said, taking a deep breath. His voice was steady, calm, and composed.