I understand. He's forcing me to see Fu Yanshen, who's not taking proper care of his injuries and is smoking, courting death.

Does he still think his brother is pitiful? Should I feel sorry for him and pity him?

Fu Ren ignored me. He had already started the car, put both hands on the steering wheel, turned the car around sharply, and stepped on the gas. Due to inertia, the strong push-back feeling almost threw me out, and I had to fasten my seatbelt quickly.

Not to mention forcibly getting off the bus.

Fu Ren drives really wildly, speeding all the way and treating the off-road vehicle like a motorcycle.

If I hadn't repeatedly scolded and reminded him, all my driving license points would have been deducted.

When we arrived at the hospital's underground parking lot, Fu Ren opened the car door, stood outside the car, and slightly raised his chin, gesturing for me to get out.

Since I'm already here, I have to go up and give that bastard a piece of my mind so he won't try this trick on me again!

...

Two bodyguards stood guard at the door of Fu Yanshen's hospital room.

As soon as I pushed open the door to the ward, a pungent smell of tobacco hit my nostrils. I frowned in annoyance and clenched my fists.

The man leaned against the headboard of the hospital bed, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, wisps of bluish smoke rising from his body, exuding an atmosphere of decadence and gloom.

He looked up, saw me, and his face suddenly darkened, his eyes turning sinister.

It looked like she... hated me.

Before I could even accuse him of forcibly bringing me here, he started to hate me.

"Fu Yanshen, don't try to play the victim with me. You're sick but won't get treatment, you're just asking for trouble by smoking, and now you're having your brother morally blackmail me, forcing me to come here to pity you?" I snorted coldly, rolled my eyes at him, and mocked him.

Hearing my words, his already bloodshot eyes became even more crimson.

He crumpled the still-burning cigarette in his hand with rage, veins bulging on his forehead and his chest heaving.

"Get out!"

Before he could finish speaking, I turned around.

He was already hitting my sore spot, and now he treats me like this. He might as well stay in the crematorium forever!

I slammed the door and left.

I had only taken a few steps when Lin Xiao strode over from the corner of the hospital corridor, blocking my way.

"Get out of my way." I gave him a cold look.

“Miss Sheng, I’m not trying to morally blackmail you… On the day the group opened, President Fu abandoned a group of major shareholders and rushed to northern Myanmar to save you. He almost lost his life for you, and you and he came back happily together—”

He only mentioned that Fu Yanshen saved me, but why didn't he mention that he lied to me about the heart?

"Lin Xiao, you're just morally blackmailing me." I interrupted him forcefully, giving him a disdainful look.

Lin Xiao rubbed his forehead with one hand. "Fine, you can ignore his kindness, you can choose not to visit him, but you can't keep cursing him to die over the phone, can you?"

"When did I ever curse him to die?" I frowned and retorted irritably.

It's really baffling.

Upon hearing this, Lin Xiao was taken aback and looked at me with suspicion.

"That night, Mr. Fu was kicked and broke his ribs. He asked me to call you the next day, but his number was still blocked by you."

“I called you, and you answered personally. I told you about President Fu’s situation, and you said ruthlessly, ‘Who told him to hit Beichen? Let him die!’” Lin Xiao frowned as he recounted to me, “After that, I tried to call your cell phone again, but I was blocked.”

"When I made this call, it was on speakerphone, and President Fu was right next to me. He heard everything clearly, and he was so angry that he vomited blood!"

As I listened to Lin Xiao, I scrolled through my phone's call history.

Indeed, I did receive a call from Lin Xiao, but I'm certain that I didn't answer it myself.

"Are you sure it's my voice?" I asked Lin Xiao, my brow furrowed.

Lin Xiao opened his phone. "Listen to it for yourself."

A short while later, I heard a recording of a phone call on his phone. Lin Xiao earnestly told me about Fu Yanshen's condition and asked me to come to the hospital to see him.

"He deserves to be injured. Who told him to hit someone first? And he wants me to visit him? He might as well just die!"

My voice came through the recording clearly, and I gasped, a chill running down my spine.

I didn't answer the phone at all, but why did it definitely sound like my voice?

"Miss Sheng?"

"Lin Xiao, I didn't say that, but the voice really does sound just like mine." I told the truth, though I was full of doubt.

“That’s strange…” Lin Xiao said thoughtfully, “I’ll go and find out what’s going on.”

"I've been either at the office or at home these past few days. My phone is always charging at the office. Could someone have answered my call and impersonated me?"

I pondered.

Only one girl, Mengmeng, comes and goes in my office. Her voice is completely different from mine, and she has no reason to do so.

“I’ll go check. You should go and comfort that old man.” Lin Xiao looked troubled. “He really thinks you’ve turned your back on him. Apart from that phone call, you haven’t come to see him at all.”

"Judging from his appearance, he must have had another relapse of that illness. He refuses to go for psychological counseling even when we try to persuade him to."

I now understand that Fu Yanshen became depressed after hearing what "I" said.

It wasn't intentional; I was just trying to get myself killed or play the victim.

I was just being sarcastic and mocking towards him...

I let out a sigh of relief and turned to walk back to the ward.

The Dupont lighter made a crisp metallic "ding" sound, and a blue flame ignited the cigarette.

The man, dressed in dark blue pajamas, sat against the headboard, head down, seemingly sucking on a cigarette with great effort. He took several deep drags before exhaling bluish smoke.

He exhaled, then took a deep breath, appearing extremely dependent.

Nicotine in cigarettes can cause the brain to produce dopamine, bringing a feeling of pleasure and relieving anxiety and depression, but this is only temporary.

It's like drinking poison to quench thirst.

For someone like him who has undergone a heart transplant, this is undoubtedly a form of slow suicide.

I walked to the bedside. He was so immersed in his low mood that he was slow to react. I forcefully took the cigarette out of his mouth and stubbed it out in the ashtray.

The man raised his head, his thin, sunken, sickly pale face looking utterly dejected. His deep-set black eyes were bloodshot, and he had an air of... aloofness.

I didn't say anything, but went over and poured him a glass of warm water.

When he came back, he was lighting a cigarette again.

I took it off again, turned off the power, and said, "Drink water."

Fu Yanshen didn't even glance at me. He leaned against the headboard and closed his eyes to rest.

So arrogant and tsundere.

I went to the coffee table, opened the lunchbox that was already there, scooped out a bowl of white porridge, went back to the bedside, scooped a spoonful of porridge, and fed it to him.

He was still resting with his eyes closed.

"Fu Yanshen, let's eat," I said.

The man opened his eyes, his dark gaze sweeping over me indifferently.

I kept my expression blank, just glanced at him, and said again, "Let's eat."