Chapter 40
Although it wasn’t the first time Pei Songji had confessed, his words elicited an unexpected reaction from Jing Ciying.
He couldn’t describe the feeling, a strange ache in his chest, a painful fluttering.
The unfamiliar emotion rendered him speechless.
Pei Songji, sensing his discomfort, quickly changed the subject. “It’s late. You should get some rest.”
Jing Ciying looked at him, then quickly looked away, a strange shyness washing over him. “Okay,” he mumbled.
They returned to the room, Pei Songji settling him into bed before lying down on the cot.
The room was dark and quiet.
Having slept most of the day, Jing Ciying couldn’t fall asleep. He turned to look at Pei Songji.
He could barely see his outline in the darkness, but he sensed Pei Songji was also awake.
They both pretended to be asleep.
Time passed, and drowsiness finally arrived.
He didn’t know when he fell asleep.
He woke up to daylight, the cot beside him empty.
He wasn’t concerned, getting out of bed to go to the bathroom, when he heard voices in the hallway.
He walked towards the door, and it opened, revealing Pei Songji.
His expression was troubled, but he forced a smile when he saw Jing Ciying.
“You’re awake.”
“Yes. Who were you talking to?”
“No one,” Pei Songji denied quickly, urging him to wash up while he ordered breakfast.
Jing Ciying was puzzled. He had clearly heard voices. Why was he lying?
But it wasn’t important, so he didn’t pry, washing his face and then sitting at the table, waiting for breakfast.
Pei Songji didn’t mention the conversation, changing the subject. “You’ll be discharged after your surgery, probably around winter. Let’s go skiing in Colorado together.”
Jing Ciying remembered their previous trip to Colorado, a lifetime ago.
He had wanted to take his sister skiing, but that would never happen now. He felt a pang of sadness.
But he didn’t want to dampen Pei Songji’s enthusiasm. “Okay,” he agreed.
Breakfast arrived.
It was a light, healthy meal, as prescribed by the doctor, but still delicious, thanks to the Pei family chefs.
“Eat up,” Pei Songji said, handing him chopsticks.
He picked up some food, the taste familiar and comforting, yet he felt a wave of nausea, a lump forming in his throat, making it difficult to swallow. He chewed slowly, prolonging the process.
“What’s wrong?” Pei Songji asked, noticing his hesitation.
He met Pei Songji’s concerned gaze and forced himself to swallow, not wanting him to see his discomfort. “Nothing.”
But as soon as he swallowed, his stomach churned. He forced himself to continue eating, his body tensing with the effort.
By the end of the meal, he was sweating.
He had never realized eating could be so difficult.
After breakfast, Pei Songji went to discuss his treatment plan with the doctor. Jing Ciying rushed to the bathroom and vomited.
He felt dizzy and weak, clutching the sink for support.
After rinsing his mouth and washing his face, he looked at his reflection in the mirror.
He looked gaunt and pale, almost unrecognizable.
He was reminded of his sister, lying lifelessly in her hospital bed.
He touched his face, feeling the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the loose skin.
“Ugly,” he muttered, a sad smile touching his lips.
He suddenly doubted Pei Songji’s reassurances.
Would he really be okay?
The thought made him anxious, his heart pounding, his dizziness intensifying.
He returned to his bed and lay down, trying to rest, but his mind was restless, his thoughts racing.
He stared at the blank ceiling, a reflection of his own empty life.
He didn’t understand his own emotions.
He had felt a strange sense of peace when he received the diagnosis, a sense of relief, even.
Now, he felt a growing sense of frustration, a strange unwillingness to give up.
What was he holding onto?
He didn’t want to think about it, but the thought persisted.
What was he so unwilling to let go of?
His loved ones were gone. He had his aunt, but she had her own family.
Pei Songji would take care of Happy.
So, it wouldn’t matter if he died now.
But… why was he so unwilling to accept it?
Before he could find an answer, a nurse came to take him for more tests.
He felt like a puppet, passively following instructions, lying in various machines, watching as they drew his blood, the red liquid a stark reminder of his fading life force.
A wave of panic washed over him, an urge to pull away, but he forced himself to remain still.
By the time he returned to his room, it was almost noon. Pei Songji wasn’t there.
The nurse helped him into bed, her voice filled with concern. “Mr. Jing, you’re so thin.”
He looked down at his frail body, the hospital gown hanging loosely on his frame.
“Yes, a bit too thin,” he said, touching his wrist.
The door opened, and Pei Songji entered.
The nurse excused herself, leaving them alone.
“Are you finished with the tests?” Pei Songji asked, sitting beside him.
“Yes,” he said, forcing a smile, not wanting Pei Songji to see his fear.
But Pei Songji’s expression darkened, as if he could see through his facade.
He quickly looked away, pulling out his phone. “Look at this.”
He showed Jing Ciying a video of Happy, lying on Jing Ciying’s pajamas on the sofa, staring at his bedroom door.
Happy was usually asleep, but today, it was awake, waiting for him.
Jing Ciying’s eyes filled with tears.
“I had someone install a camera when they went to clean Happy’s litter box. You can watch him anytime you miss him.”
“They said he always stares at your bedroom door. He must miss you.”
Jing Ciying didn’t speak, just touched the screen, as if trying to reach Happy.
Pei Songji, not wanting him to get upset, put his phone away. “Let’s have lunch,” he said, as the food arrived.
Jing Ciying ate quickly, trying to force himself to eat more than usual.
But his body rebelled, and he rushed to the bathroom, vomiting violently, emptying his stomach, until he was dry heaving.
Pei Songji followed him, holding a glass of water, rubbing his back, helping him rinse his mouth.
Jing Ciying leaned against the sink, weak and dizzy, then looked up to meet Pei Songji’s worried gaze.
A wave of frustration washed over him. He looked away, mumbling, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Don’t force yourself to eat. It’s their fault; the food must be bad. I’ll have them send something else.”
He reached for his phone, but Jing Ciying stopped him.
“No, it’s not the food. It’s me.” His hand was shaking, so he quickly hid it behind his back, not wanting Pei Songji to see. “The food was delicious. I just… I wanted to eat more, but I couldn’t.”
“Why are you pushing yourself so hard? Because of the video of Happy?” Pei Songji asked, concerned.
“No,” Jing Ciying shook his head. “Because…”
He looked at Pei Songji, unable to speak.
How could he explain?
How could he tell Pei Songji that he suddenly didn’t want to die anymore? That he wanted to live?
He was suddenly terrified of losing his connection to this world, of never seeing his aunt and Happy again.
And of never seeing Pei Songji again.
He wasn’t as indifferent as he had pretended to be.
His heart was in turmoil.
Perhaps he wasn’t as innocent in this as he had thought.
He felt a pang of guilt.
And a deep, burning unwillingness to give up.
