Chapter 44
Jing Ciying, resigned to his fate, took a deep breath and opened the door.
There was no reason to be nervous. He was an adult; he could decide when to go to bed. And Pei Songji wasn’t his boss anymore; he had no right to tell him what to do.
But as he opened the door, his carefully constructed bravado crumbled.
He mentally cursed his own cowardice, letting Pei Songji in.
Pei Songji looked at the lit living room and the laptop on the dining table. “I thought you were asleep.”
Jing Ciying didn’t respond. He didn’t want to explain what he was doing.
Pei Songji’s annoyance intensified, but he knew he had no right to be angry. “What are you working on? You resigned. What could be more important than your health?”
“Nothing important,” Jing Ciying said quickly.
“Really?” Pei Songji walked towards the laptop.
Jing Ciying rushed forward, placing his hand protectively over the keyboard, glaring at Pei Songji.
Pei Songji, who had only been testing him, stopped, surprised by his reaction.
Jing Ciying, realizing he had overreacted, said quickly, “It’s really nothing. Just something I had to finish. I’ll go to bed now.”
He picked up the laptop and turned towards his bedroom.
“The day before yesterday, yesterday, today…” Pei Songji said.
“What?” Jing Ciying turned back, confused.
“This is the third night in a row you’ve stayed up late.”
Jing Ciying’s guilt vanished, replaced by annoyance. “How do you know that?”
“I wait outside your apartment building every night after work. But you always go to bed early, so I never came up.”
Jing Ciying had thought he had been so discreet. He felt a flicker of embarrassment, then anger. “You’ve been watching me?”
“I’m not watching you. I’m concerned about your health.”
“I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”
“Take care of yourself? Is that what you call ending up in the hospital?”
“It’s none of your business! Stay out of my life!”
He instantly regretted his outburst. He knew Pei Songji was concerned about him.
He wanted to apologize, but the words wouldn’t come.
The room fell silent.
After a while, Pei Songji chuckled, a bitter, almost painful sound.
“You’re right. It’s none of my business. I’ve been… presumptuous. I should have known better. You don’t care about your health, and you certainly don’t care about me. So you wouldn’t understand how I felt when I found out you were ill, how terrified I was when you were in surgery, how much I just want you to be healthy and happy.”
Jing Ciying wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t.
“Because you don’t love me,” Pei Songji continued, a self-deprecating smile twisting his lips. “I knew that. I just… I hoped things would change. But…” he trailed off, then said softly, “I apologize. I overstepped.”
He forced a smile, then turned and walked away, his shoulders slumped.
“I’ll leave you to your… whatever it is that’s more important than your health.”
As the door closed, Jing Ciying rushed to the balcony and saw Pei Songji walking away, his back turned, not looking back.
He had truly angered him this time.
He stood there for a long time, until the night air chilled him to the bone, then returned to his bedroom, clutching his laptop.
He was almost finished with his project, and no one was telling him to go to bed, but he couldn’t focus anymore. He turned off the computer and went to bed.
He picked up his phone, wanting to send Pei Songji a message, but he couldn’t find the right words. He deleted them all, then put his phone away.
He couldn’t sleep.
He had insomnia for the first time in his life.
Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Pei Songji’s face, his sad smile, his retreating figure.
Had he been too harsh? Should he apologize?
He couldn’t find a solution.
He assumed Pei Songji wouldn’t bother with him anymore, but the next morning, the housekeeper arrived as usual, bringing him breakfast and then cleaning his apartment.
“Good morning, Mr. Jing,” she greeted him cheerfully.
He stared at her, momentarily disoriented, then nodded, sitting down to eat.
As she was clearing the table, he couldn’t help but ask, “Did Mr. Pei say anything?”
“Say anything?” she asked, confused.
He knew Pei Songji hadn’t said anything, seeing her puzzled expression. “Nothing,” he said quickly, retreating to his bedroom.
The housekeeper usually stayed all day, preparing his meals, making sure he took his medication.
He usually stayed in his room while she was there, emerging only after she left.
He sat at his computer, trying to work on his game design, but he couldn’t focus.
He kept glancing at the clock.
Time seemed to have slowed down, each minute an eternity.
Finally, 10:00 pm arrived.
He instinctively looked at his phone, expecting Pei Songji’s nightly call.
But the phone remained silent.
The silence felt like a physical ache, an emptiness he couldn’t fill.
He suddenly stood up and walked towards the balcony, then hesitated, taking a deep breath before looking down.
The street was empty. No Pei Songji.
Of course. After last night’s argument, he wouldn’t be there.
He didn’t understand himself.
Without Pei Songji’s prompting, he went to bed early, following his usual routine.
Before sleeping, he picked up his phone, wanting to send a message: I went to bed early tonight.
But it felt too awkward. He put his phone away.
The next day, and the next…
For a whole week, Pei Songji didn’t call. Only the housekeeper continued her daily visits, bringing him food, making sure he took his medication, cleaning his apartment.
He felt guilty, wanting to tell her she didn’t have to come anymore.
But she said, “Mr. Pei instructed me to take care of you until you’ve fully recovered.”
He couldn’t argue with that, letting her continue her duties.
Pei Songji’s continued concern, however indirect, gave him a strange sense of comfort, a fragile connection he didn’t want to sever.
Time passed, and two weeks went by.
The first snow fell in Lincheng, winter finally arriving.
His almost-finished game design remained unfinished. He hadn’t been able to work on it for two weeks.
He finally understood the reason for his writer’s block.
He missed Pei Songji.
He had never imagined feeling anything for Pei Songji beyond annoyance and resentment.
But these past two weeks had revealed the extent of his dependence on him.
He missed his nightly calls, his nagging, his concern.
He had been alone for so long, and Pei Songji had given him a sense of security he hadn’t felt in years.
He still didn’t want to admit it, but he couldn’t deny it any longer.
He cared about Pei Songji.
He decided to apologize, to be proactive.
After the housekeeper left, he went to Pei Group, taking a taxi.
Although he hadn’t been there in months, the familiar surroundings felt comforting. He went straight to the 32nd floor.
It was after work hours, but he knew Pei Songji, the workaholic, would still be there.
As expected, the lights were on.
He walked towards Pei Songji’s office, his resolve weakening with each step.
He stopped outside the door, his courage failing him.
“Sir, can I help you?” a voice said behind him.
He turned to see a young man in a suit, holding a cup of coffee, presumably Pei Songji’s new secretary.
“I…” he hesitated, then pointed towards the office. “I’m looking for Mr. Pei.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No,” he admitted, realizing how impulsive his visit had been.
His already wavering resolve crumbled completely.
“I’ll come back another time,” he said, turning towards the elevator, not daring to look back.
The secretary knocked on the door and entered Pei Songji’s office.
Jing Ciying glanced back, fearing the secretary would mention his presence. He just wanted to leave.
But the elevator was slow, the long descent taking forever.
Finally, it arrived.
He rushed inside and pressed the close button.
Just as the doors were about to close, a hand reached out, stopping them.
The doors opened again, and someone stepped inside.
The familiar scent filled the small space.
He looked up.
It was Pei Songji.
