Chapter 32: Ugly Scars
Even if it was Rong Xingyi, his own blood-related younger brother, Xi Leng still wasn’t used to being touched and clinging together.
Fortunately, Rong Xingyi was only dreaming. Xi Leng, his expression indifferent, pulled him away and tucked him back into the blanket.
He then went upstairs to get his phone and ordered medicine delivery.
It was estimated to arrive in about twenty minutes, faster than him going to the pharmacy himself.
Xi Leng leaned back on the sofa, his eyes closed peacefully, waiting quietly.
Only his hands, clasped in front of him, knuckles taut and white, the veins on the back of his hands prominent.
…
Half an hour later, the property manager on night duty rang the doorbell.
Cloudtop One had strict restrictions on outside personnel, including delivery drivers and couriers. All food and goods were handed over to the property management, who then delivered them to the residents.
The manager knew that both apartments on this floor belonged to Min Zhi, although the order slip had the address next door, he still followed his memory and rang the doorbell of Min Zhi’s apartment.
After waiting for three minutes, he scratched his head in confusion, hesitantly walking towards the opposite door…
Click, the door behind him opened.
The manager turned around with a smile, saying politely: “Mr. Min, your delivery is here.”
Min Zhi frowned, looking at the paper bag he handed over.
A large character for “medicine” was printed on the paper bag, so the manager added: “Mr. Min, if you or your family members are feeling unwell, please don’t hesitate to contact me.”
Min Zhi looked at him for a moment, not denying his words, taking the paper bag: “Okay.”
The property management service of high-end residences was indeed thoughtful.
They thoughtfully remembered every resident and acted according to ingrained experience, resulting in the delivery being sent to the wrong door.
After the property manager left, Min Zhi didn’t close the door immediately.
He lifted the yellow paper bag, deciphering the small black print on the receipt. The buyer was his neighbor, Mr. Xi, the order time, the type of medicine, the note requesting urgent delivery…
Antipyretics, in the middle of the night?
Logically, Min Zhi shouldn’t know the meaning behind this, but who told him to have a promiscuous gay best friend?
He suddenly realized and immediately pounded on the closed door next door.
After venting, reason returned to his mind. He recalled Xi Leng searching for someone in the rain a few hours ago and suddenly understood. But at this moment, the door opened.
Xi Leng’s face was filled with anxiety, which froze the moment he saw the visitor.
Having just come to collect the delivery, he was wearing pajamas, the V-neck revealing a bit of his fair collarbone, his neck naturally bare, which he quickly covered with his hand.
Min Zhi’s throat tightened: “The medicine was delivered to my place.”
“Ah…” Late at night, Xi Leng’s reaction was a bit slow. “Sorry, I disturbed you.”
“It’s fine, I wasn’t asleep yet.”
But Min Zhi didn’t let go of the paper bag. Xi Leng couldn’t take it, so he looked up at him, saying tentatively: “Thank you, just give it to me.”
But Min Zhi not only didn’t give him the medicine, but even put his foot in the doorway, blocking it: “Is something wrong? Can I come in and see?”
“After all, you’re my fan.”
“…”
Ignoring the ownership of the apartment, Xi Leng couldn’t find a reason to refuse. Having enjoyed the benefits of being a fan, he had to fulfill some obligations.
Moreover, Xi Leng was really worried. He decisively moved aside, and Min Zhi finally let go, letting him take the antipyretics.
“Xiao Yi has a fever.”
He only had time to give Min Zhi a brief explanation before turning and rushing to Rong Xingyi’s room.
Having to take the medicine and open the door, both of his hands were occupied, his neck completely exposed, unfortunately leaving Min Zhi with only a hurried back view.
Min Zhi quickly followed, once again pushing open the bedroom door that Xi Leng had just closed. The idol, under the guise of his title, acted like a complete thug.
However, seeing the flushed and sweating teenager on the bed, he unconsciously softened his movements, not wanting to disturb him.
Xi Leng called out “Xiao Yi” a few times.
Rong Xingyi opened his hazy peach blossom eyes, letting out a soft “eh?” He first touched Xi Leng’s outstretched hand, it was cool, real, unlike in the dreams of the past few years. But when he looked up and saw Min Zhi, he felt unreal again, murmuring as if in a dream: “…Ge? Min Zhi-gege?”
“You’re dreaming.” Xi Leng’s face was expressionless as he pulled him up, handing him the medicine and water. “Take this.”
Rong Xingyi didn’t resist, obediently taking the antipyretics, which also had a sedative effect.
Xi Leng sat by the bed and comforted him, telling a blatant lie, making the naive teenager firmly believe that the sudden appearance of his idol was just a dream.
Since it was just a dream, Rong Xingyi grabbed his brother’s arm, using him as a comfort blanket, and drifted back to sleep.
Min Zhi hesitated: “…”
His gaze shifted back and forth several times, finally settling on Xi Leng’s profile.
Slightly below, was the mysterious skin beneath his Adam’s apple that Xi Leng always hid with his collar or a scarf.
“Don’t look.” Xi Leng, sensing his gaze, kept his head lowered, his eyes downcast. “It’s disgusting.”
Min Zhi recalled that day on the bus to the escape room, Xi Leng seemed to have the same expression, muttering something he couldn’t hear clearly.
He only now dug it out from his subconscious.
At the time, Xi Leng, touching the concealer patch on his neck, said: “It’s something disgusting.”
A few simple words, forming a self-deprecating sentence, filled with unknown pain.
It was a scar.
Just below his Adam’s apple, horizontal, about five or six centimeters long, dark red, slightly raised and twisted, like a centipede or some kind of worm, the vertical stitches forming antennae.
Despite his exquisitely sculpted features and extraordinary temperament, the scar, with its strong presence, captured all of his attention.
People always loved to pry into ugliness and gossip about it.
Especially flaws in beauty, evil in goodness, the dark side of kindness.
Xi Leng’s face was expressionless, not bothering to cover the now exposed scar, only keeping his head lowered.
Suddenly, he stood up, standing in front of Min Zhi, calmly revealing everything he had hidden.
“Let’s go out, let him sleep.”
Xi Leng gently removed Rong Xingyi’s fingers and stood up.
That calmness wasn’t indifference.
But a familiar dead silence, a sense of hopelessness.
Like how he lived in that dilapidated old apartment, filled with clutter, yet didn’t care, letting his radiant idol “have a seat.”
People always yearned for light and beauty, longed to be liked, praised, and admired. This was human nature. So they tried to hide their ugliness, striving to present their best selves.
Looking at Rong Xingyi on the bed, Min Zhi had a lot of questions to ask, but he opened his mouth then closed it, saying nothing.
The two walked to the living room, neither speaking first.
【…What is that? So ugly.】
Xi Leng, his back to Min Zhi, closed his eyes slightly.
Auditory hallucinations again.
He had thought that after experiencing the deepest fear of death, these wouldn’t bother him anymore.
【Stay away from me!】
Staring blankly at the meandering raindrops on the window, Xi Leng muttered to himself: “Is it still raining?”
【So disgusting… so scary…】
Footsteps mixed with the hallucinations and the sound of rain, chaotic and disorganized, the rain outside the window like countless messy needles, piercing his ears, stabbing into his brain.
【Did you do that to yourself? Oh my god, I don’t want to sit next to you anymore!】
A flash of clothing appeared in his peripheral vision. Xi Leng was startled, turning his head to see Min Zhi standing just two steps away.
He remembered Min Zhi’s secretive demeanor when talking about his music, so he found a tactful excuse to dismiss him: “It’s getting late, you should go back, I plan to listen to your songs for a while.”
【Shouldn’t you cover that scar? This is a school! What if you scare the other children!? Teacher, is this child… really okay?】
But Min Zhi seemed not to have heard anything, his face serious, his dark eyes fixed on Xi Leng’s face.
【Rong Zhao… can you please wear collared shirts to school from now on?】
Xi Leng pulled himself out of the hallucinations, looking at the real person in front of him, about to say something.
But Min Zhi spoke first, asking: “Who did this?”
…
In Xi Leng’s long and dark memories, Rong Xingyi, just learning to walk, full of curiosity about everything, stumbled towards their father, only to be pushed away irritably.
From this experience, Rong Haigao found another interesting toy.
His eldest son was a quiet child, beating him didn’t have to worry about neighbors complaining, but it was also incredibly boring.
On the other hand, his younger son would cry and make a fuss, giving him a false sense of power, as if acting recklessly in this home could prove that he wasn’t a failure in society, but a powerful king.
That year, Rong Xingyi was six, about to start elementary school, the same age Xi Leng lost his mother.
Neither child was particularly naughty, yet they were constantly subjected to unwarranted violence.
The twelve-year-old Xi Leng returned home from school, hearing Rong Xingyi’s cries before even opening the door. He used all his strength to push open the locked door and saw his stepmother slumped on the kitchen floor, her clothes disheveled, her face bruised and swollen, trembling as she covered her face.
Rong Xingyi was lying on the floor, his father’s hands around his neck, barely conscious.
She perhaps still held a sliver of hope for this man, or perhaps she was too terrified to move.
The twelve-year-old Xi Leng was taller and stronger than the adult woman. Ye Nan, like finding a lifeline, looked at the silent and gloomy boy at the door, her eyes wet.
Rong Xingyi lay weakly on the floor. Rong Haigao was about to go to the kitchen to deal with Ye Nan when Rong Xingyi hugged his leg.
“N-no, don’t… don’t hit my mom…”
“Slap!”
Rong Haigao backhanded him.
“I’ve fucking raised you for so many years for nothing. Do you understand? It was that bitch who hid the money first! You ungrateful brat, you’re still my son!? I spent tens of thousands to save your worthless life, damn it… I should have known, you came to my family to be a burden!”
Xi Leng watched all this coldly, silently taking a fruit knife from the shelf.
With the resolve of no return, he rushed towards Rong Haigao.
Rong Haigao’s pupils constricted.
He could see clearly the emotion in Xi Leng’s eyes, it was fear.
So Rong Haigao was also afraid of him.
However, the twelve-year-old boy’s strength was no match for a strong and healthy adult in his thirties or forties. In a blink of an eye, the gleaming fruit knife was in Rong Haigao’s hand.
At that time, Xi Leng only felt that death was a release, their only form of resistance.
If he died, he died.
But as Rong Haigao swung the knife towards him, as he lay in a pool of blood, clutching his throat, only one thought filled his mind.
Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die, don’t die.
He didn’t want to die…
Rong Xingyi was so frightened he couldn’t speak, and his stepmother almost fainted. Fortunately, she worked as a nurse at a clinic and had first-aid experience. She reacted quickly, bandaging his wound and calling an ambulance.
He survived, but with a five or six-centimeter long, four-centimeter deep scar, a lingering reminder, accompanying him for over a decade, until his true death.
And now, reborn.
—“Who did this?”
For the first time in two lifetimes, someone asked him this question, their tone filled with anger.
Before this, only one person was different, only Luo Jiayan. Luo Jiayan looked at his scar, not with disgust or fear, but with pity.
Luo Jiayan was cautious, afraid of causing him further pain, pretending not to see it, then tentatively asking him what he wanted to eat, where he wanted to go, seemingly trying to comfort and care for him in his own way.
But he didn’t need comfort or care.
He was striving to live, he wasn’t miserable or pitiful.
Luo Jiayan, who came from a happy family, couldn’t understand his feelings, empathy was out of the question. That sympathy was just a learned compassion.
Luo Jiayan had already done enough.
But Min Zhi, why would Min Zhi ask him this? His eyes flickered several times, such a simple question, yet he didn’t know how to answer.
This intensely unfamiliar feeling, more unsettling than facing violence as a child.
The thin layer of ice that protected him, the shell that separated him from everyone, seemed to have a small crack.
Min Zhi’s gaze forcefully intruded, trying to peek into the hidden parts he himself didn’t want to face, the weak, pitiful, and pathetic him.
A wave of panic washed away Xi Leng’s ability to think. He was at a loss, lowering his head deeply, covering his neck with both hands.
“…Don’t look.”
Min Zhi readily turned his face away.
But Xi Leng’s turbulent emotions still couldn’t calm down, like waves in a hurricane. And it kept raining outside, pitter-patter.
Even in the dry and safe indoors, he felt drenched, his thin clothes clinging to his body, all his secrets exposed.
Min Zhi, on the other hand, appeared calm and collected, more like the owner of this apartment than him, sitting on the sofa and saying casually: “Play your music if you want.”
“…Why?” Xi Leng’s voice was a little hoarse as he asked the question that had been on his mind, “Why is it a curse?”
Min Zhi looked up, a few strands of hair falling across his forehead, his dark eyes as deep and cold as the endless rainy night outside.
“It’s a secret, I haven’t told anyone else.” Min Zhi said. “If you want to know, you have to exchange a secret.”
Xi Leng didn’t make a sound, his hands slowly releasing his neck.
Perhaps he realized it was pointless, or perhaps he noticed that Min Zhi’s attention had already shifted.
Now, Min Zhi was looking at the white T-shirt he was wearing.
A line of black letters across his chest, casual like handwriting. Xi Leng was good at drawing, customizing a T-shirt should be easy for him.
Anyway, Min Zhi instinctively felt that he had drawn it himself, for no logical reason. And he had specifically chosen French, which most people wouldn’t understand or care about.
Coincidentally, Min Zhi’s major required him to read a large number of foreign literary works, he happened to have studied a bit of French, and happened to understand it.
Le sort je ne m’y soumets pas.
—Fate cannot make me submit.
