Dai Linxuan skimmed it and passed it to Ye Qingyun. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Ye Qingyun said. “If you’re not in a hurry to leave, get some good rest. We can discuss the rest tomorrow morning?”
“Not in a hurry.”
“In a hurry.”
—Dai Linxuan and Lai Li spoke at the same time.
Dai Linxuan placed a hand on Lai Li’s shoulder and squeezed. “It won’t make a difference for one night. We need at least two or three days anyway, until your legs are better… right?”
Lai Li jerked his face away, silent.
His gaze landed on the hem of Dai Linxuan’s coat, where there was a speck of dust. He endured it but couldn’t, bending to pluck it off. He patted his pocket, as if looking for a tissue.
Dai Linxuan smiled. “Dinner is ready in the dining room. You should rest early too. See you tomorrow morning.”
Ye Qingyun withdrew her observant gaze discreetly, smiled in agreement, and turned to leave.
Everyone knew neither could rest early. Ye Qingyun had to discuss Lai Li’s condition with her team, and Dai Linxuan’s sleep was poor to begin with, now burdened with worry.
Back at the villa, Dai Linxuan cooked two freshly cut steaks and poured a small glass of red wine.
He cut a small piece and fed it to Lai Li. “How’s the doneness?”
Lai Li chewed while staring at him, then swallowed. “Just right—What did she ask you?”
Dai Linxuan sipped his wine. “Some common questions, like family mental health history, violent tendencies, daily routines…”
Lai Li didn’t ask what answers he gave. He took the fork and ate the steak quietly.
Both were thick cuts; Lai Li ate most of one and a good portion of the other. Dai Linxuan only finished two-thirds of his.
He took out a handkerchief and dabbed Lai Li’s mouth, feeling a bit reassured.
Ye Qingyun had asked about eating habits too—
Lai Li’s appetite was always good, intake higher than average for males, but with high energy and lots of exercise, he digested it all—very healthy.
As long as he could eat well, how bad could it be?
In the bedroom, Dai Linxuan had a special shampooing bed brought in and personally washed Lai Li’s hair. Post-surgery, it was short and barely dirty; washing meant just rinsing around the incision and blow-drying.
“Once your hair grows out, you can cut it for me again.”
“Still a wolf tail?” Dai Linxuan pinched his ear. “That’ll take until next spring at least.”
Lai Li’s ear twitched. “Is there a rule against cutting hair in spring?”
Dai Linxuan let out a soft, amused breath through his nose. “Of course not. Even if others can’t, our Majesty certainly can.”
Lai Li lifted his eyelids slightly and let out a barely audible hum. “You only know how to coax me with words.”
“Where have my actions fallen short?” Dai Linxuan kneaded the sides of his ears, massaging them. “—Tell me, Your Majesty, and this subject will correct it immediately.”
Lai Li said, “Hire me as your bodyguard after we get back.”
Dai Linxuan: “…”
Fine.
The path of life assistant was blocked, so now he was eyeing the bodyguard’s job.
“Facts prove that you need a personal bodyguard—” Lai Li said coldly, “—and it can only be me. Don’t even think about anyone else.”
The thought of someone following Dai Linxuan twenty-four hours a day made him want to kill.
Dai Linxuan said, “Your wounds haven’t healed yet…”
Lai Li scoffed. “These wounds will be fully healed in at most half a month.”
“…” Dai Linxuan let out a mocking laugh. “Even Mom never had a personal bodyguard.”
“That’s because she didn’t have me.” Lai Li was utterly confident. “You do.”
Dai Linxuan’s head throbbed, but he couldn’t help finding it endearing, as if he’d been bewitched.
He was going mad.
When no response came after a long while, Lai Li called out warningly, “Dai Linxuan.”
Dai Linxuan quickly grabbed the phone nearby and held it out at arm’s length.
Lai Li’s raised hand froze mid-air, his face expressionless.
Night fell, and they went to bed early. They didn’t talk about the illness; instead, they watched a movie together.
Lai Li insisted on sitting between Dai Linxuan’s legs with his head resting against his chest, just like when they were kids. A man over 1.8 meters tall looked awkward no matter what, but neither of them cared.
As long as he wasn’t clamoring to be a bodyguard, Dai Linxuan would indulge him however he wanted.
Worried that Lai Li might slip and pull at his wounds, he bent one leg to support him.
Around eleven, Lai Li fell asleep first.
Dai Linxuan laid him flat, turned off the movie, and lay beside him for over an hour. Only when he felt Lai Li was deeply asleep did he quietly get out of bed.
After prolonged physical exhaustion, Dai Linxuan was reaching his limit. If this continued, Lai Li would notice his fatigue, and an argument would inevitably follow.
So he had Ye Qingyun bring a bottle of sleeping pills. While Lai Li slept, he took two and swallowed them with a gulp of cool water from the table. The pills slid down his throat with the roll of his Adam’s apple.
After that, he slipped back into bed quietly, groped for Lai Li’s warm fingertips, and let his consciousness sink.
An hour later, Lai Li suddenly opened his eyes, wide awake.
He rolled over, and the sleeping Dai Linxuan instinctively grasped his hand.
Lai Li didn’t pull away. He propped his other arm beside Dai Linxuan’s ear and shifted closer, gazing down at him from head to toe.
“You need sleeping pills to sleep even with me? Don’t you like me?” He leaned down and nipped Dai Linxuan’s nose tip, murmuring in a low voice, “…Liar.”
The next morning, Lai Li’s diagnosis results came out—
Schizoaffective disorder, manic type, possibly accompanied by other types, along with severe paranoid personality disorder. Neither was caused by organic disease.
Additionally, Lai Li had moderate anxiety and fairly severe atypical obsessive-compulsive disorder.
The last two weren’t significant on their own—many psychiatric patients exhibited such symptoms—but they were special in Lai Li’s case.
Ye Qingyun asked, “Has he only recently shown anxiety? Did something happen?”
“…It should be because of me.” Dai Linxuan didn’t hide it. “Some of my recent behavior might have made him feel very uneasy.”
Ye Qingyun asked, “Does he feel like he’ll be abandoned?”
Dai Linxuan wasn’t surprised that Ye Qingyun could see their relationship. He frowned and said, “Not entirely. It’s hard to describe—he’s afraid of me contacting certain… bad people.”
“It’s not fear; it’s not allowing it.” Ye Qingyun corrected her wording. “That’s why I said it’s atypical OCD.”
Dai Linxuan was somewhat surprised and looked up at her.
“You haven’t noticed his OCD tendencies in daily life, right?” Ye Qingyun found it odd too. “Because all his symptoms are projected onto you.”
Dai Linxuan: “…”
Ye Qingyun said, “This is my inference from observation, not his self-report—”
“He probably demands a lot from your attire’s neatness and propriety, including your appearance. He might frequently check your body, perhaps for dirt or marks left by others… Sorry for being so intrusive.”
Dai Linxuan wanted to deny the latter, but his brain reacted first. Lai Li had indeed been doing that lately.
To be precise, he had done it before too, but back then they didn’t avoid each other at all. Dai Linxuan showered and undressed without care, making it easy for Lai Li to check discreetly.
Ye Qingyun continued, “He has strong control issues—your social circle, your work, little details in life like what material or brand of pajamas you wear… He wants to manage it all.”
“You’re right.” Dai Linxuan exhaled softly. “But these aren’t big deals. I don’t mind, so let’s talk about…”
Ye Qingyun interrupted, “Of course they’re big deals—OCD is often closely linked to anxiety. Why do you think he didn’t show anxiety symptoms before?”
“…” Dai Linxuan slumped into the sofa, pressing his temples. “Because I never violated his ‘order’ back then?”
Ye Qingyun nodded. “Exactly.”
Dai Linxuan opened his mouth but said nothing for a long time.
“I don’t mean for you to go back to how things were; I just want you to be mentally prepared. Lai Li is an extremely paranoid psychiatric patient.” Ye Qingyun’s tone was gentle. “He might even be deliberately showing the anxiety to make you aware.”
Dai Linxuan lowered his gaze to the floor. He wasn’t surprised at all—that was exactly something Lai Li would do.
“Of course, that doesn’t mean he’s faking it.” Ye Qingyun added, “Lai Li has very clear self-awareness. He knows his issues and which ones to reveal for his benefit and which to hide.”
“…Do you think he wasn’t completely honest?”
“To some extent, yes.” Ye Qingyun said, “But the diagnosis is solid. Do you know about schizoaffective disorder?”
Dai Linxuan hummed. He’d researched many mental illnesses before and had come across schizoaffective disorder—a condition easily misdiagnosed, combining schizophrenia and mood disorders. It was incurable and lifelong.
Ye Qingyun said, “Lai Li’s schizophrenic symptoms are much more severe than the affective ones: frequent auditory, visual, and olfactory hallucinations, plus delusions.”
