Chapter 16 Doll vs. Mending: I found a tattered doll...

When Lu Huaijin gently pushed open the door, Wen Yinhe was still sleeping in that familiar hollow, his back to the door, nestled in the shadow of the pile of pillows.

His body under the thin blanket barely moved, with only his messy black hair scattered on the pillow. It seemed to have grown a little longer than last month, and it appeared to be the only visible sign of life in him.

As always, Lu Huaijin carried in a washbasin, sat down by the man's bed, helped the man lean against the upright pillows, and personally brushed the man's teeth, washed his face, and fed him breakfast.

It's like taking care of an infant who can't take care of himself, or like playing house with a soulless doll.

The man's skin was pale from lack of sunlight, and his facial features looked as if they had been meticulously crafted, as exquisite and perfect as a marble sculpture. His thick, raven-feather-like eyelashes drooped slightly, exuding a captivating beauty.

Those eyes were large and dark, like two meticulously polished obsidian stones, excessively smooth, yet without a trace of emotion in them.

Sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but it couldn't penetrate the emptiness in the man's eyes.

If it weren't for the fact that it was still breathing, it would truly be like an empty shell of a doll.

Wen Yinhe would occasionally swallow a few mouthfuls mechanically, but most of the time he would just keep his lips tightly closed and stare blankly at a point in the void, as if his soul had long since left his body.

Wen Yinhe has been in this state for a month.

Lu Huaijin skillfully wiped the man's mouth clean with a towel, kissed his cheek, and asked gently, "What's wrong? Is it not to your liking?"

Wen Yinhe naturally did not respond.

He didn't understand why this person kept asking about his tastes, as if he could answer normally. In reality, he had long lost his sense of taste and couldn't taste anything at all.

After breakfast, Lu Huaijin brought over a glass of warm water, carefully pried open Wen Yinhe's lips, fed him the pills and water, and then held his chin to confirm the man's slight swallowing movements.

Sometimes the pills would stick to the back of his tongue, causing Wen Yinhe to instinctively frown and gag, at which point Lu Huaijin would frantically wipe them off for him.

Wen Yinhe's dark, wooden eyes stared intently at the handsome and noble man as he cleaned his filth without any disgust. When he saw him looking over, he merely smiled and leaned in to gently kiss his fluttering eyelashes.

I don't understand it.

The daytime is easy to get through; you just need to keep your eyes open and breathe without moving.

The nights are the hardest to get through.

He slept with the man, and he knew the man was a light sleeper; his breathing was restless, and it was impossible for the man to fall asleep.

It felt as if an invisible boulder was pressing down on my chest, making even the simplest breathing difficult and short. I had to force myself to barely inhale a little thin air into my lungs.

Nausea filled his mouth, anxiety and fear churned in his stomach, and a chill seeped out from the very marrow of his bones. Even wrapped in a blanket, Wen Yinhe's limbs remained icy cold.

Those people and things he should have forgotten, those vicious words and curses, those ugly faces and disgusted eyes, all rushed towards him in that instant, as if they wanted to drown him.

Almost instinctively, he reached out his icy hand to seek the only source of warmth nearby.

Like a drowning person in a boundless, dark deep sea, instinctively reaching for the only piece of floating wood.

Mr. Lu...

But his limbs were already stiff, and with all his might he could only grasp the corner of Lu Huaijin's pajamas, his strength as light as the faint breath of a dying person, as if he intended to rely on this to get through the long night.

It was a touch so slight it was almost imperceptible, yet the man beside him was suddenly jolted awake.

Lu Huaijin pulled the stiff man into his arms, gently patting Wen Yinhe's back through the soft pajamas, soothing him softly, "It's alright, it's alright, don't be afraid, don't be afraid. I'm here with you, I'll drive everything away for you. As long as you're with me, you're the safest person, you don't have to be afraid of anything..."

The man's movements were light and slow, with an almost primal, soothing rhythm, like coaxing a frightened infant who couldn't sleep.

Soon, Lu Huaijin felt a warm, wet sensation on his chest.

Lu Huaijin's soothing actions did not stop at all. His tender and affectionate kisses landed on Wen Yinhe's soft hair, like an animal kissing its lover's neck, or like two fledglings relying on each other for survival.

The same loneliness, the same solitary existence.

No one knew that when he held this pitiful, helpless man in his arms, he was so excited that he almost trembled.

Time flowed silently in the dim light, and all was still.

The only sound in the silence was the extremely soft patting of Lu Huaijin's palm on Wen Yinhe's back, which intertwined with Wen Yinhe's gradually calming and steady breathing.

After that night, Wen Yinhe suddenly became unable to move.

Lu Huaijin specially prepared a wheelchair for him, lifted him into the wheelchair, and then pushed him around. He even removed all the thresholds in the house and replaced them with ramps, and added two more elevators.

Wen Yinhe still remembered the arrogant demeanor and slightly raised chin of the man when she first saw Lu Huaijin by the bridge.

But now, the man's upright back bent countless times, his proud head lowered, and he knelt on one knee in front of him, who seemed paralyzed, putting on his shoes, taking off his socks, and even wiping his feet again and again.

He thought he was just a toy that a bored rich man picked up and brought home, but who would kneel down for a toy?

Wen Yinhe's thick black eyelashes drooped, and his dark eyes, which were filled with complex emotions and confusion as he silently gazed at the man's lowered head, revealed a deep emotion that he himself was unaware of.

He extended his cold, thin fingertips and tentatively touched the man's soft hair. He paused slightly, then gently tucked a strand of hair behind the man's ear.

His movements were clumsy and abrupt, stiff from not having moved for a long time, and you could almost hear the cracking of his bones. When his fingertips brushed against Lu Huaijin's skin, they left a shocking numbness, causing a small patch of skin behind Lu Huaijin's ear to instantly lose sensation.

“Mr. Lu…you don’t need to go to this extent.”

Wen Yinhe's throat emitted labored breaths, each syllable requiring immense effort, ground and squeezed out in fragments by his sluggish throat, hoarse like a broken bellows, yet weak like a helpless sigh.

Lu Huaijin suddenly grasped Wen Yinhe's fingertips, carefully covering them with his own soft face, pressing them tightly together, and gazing deeply into his eyes: "Is there anything you want?"

Wen Yinhe paused for a second: "I want to die."

Lu Huaijin said decisively, "Except for this."

Wen Yinhe then remained silent.

Lu Huaijin leaned forward and knelt before Wen Yinhe's knees, letting the man's cool fingertips touch his face, gliding over his handsome eyebrows and straight nose, finally landing on his hot and soft lips, probing slightly inward to touch them with a little moisture.

"Besides this, what else do you want? Money, power, possessions, or even... people."

The last syllable, sticky and lingering, was like a venomous snake flicking its tongue, slowly coiling around Wen Yinhe's neck, making it increasingly difficult for him to breathe.

"Anything I own, or anything I can acquire, whatever it may be, I will give it to you."

Wen Yinhe stared at Lu Huaijin for a long time, a surge of intense emotion seemingly welling up in the depths of his dark eyes. Suddenly, he abruptly looked away, his Adam's apple bobbing, and said in a hoarse voice, "No."

Lu Huaijin smiled faintly, kissed his fingertips, and didn't ask any further questions. He stood up, nodded gracefully, and then naturally wrapped his arms around the man's thighs.

"Excuse me."

With a sudden effort, the tall but thin man was lifted into a wheelchair.

Wen Yinhe lowered his head silently, his slightly long bangs almost completely obscuring half of his delicate features, lost in thought.

After a long pause, he spoke hoarsely, his voice filled with childlike confusion and bewilderment, yet also tinged with a lingering bitterness and pain: "Why am I in a wheelchair? Are my legs broken?"

Lu Huaijin paused slightly as he pushed the wheelchair. He leaned down and rested his chin on the man's head, wrapping his arms around the man's frail body as if holding the most precious treasure in his life. His palms pressed against the man's faint heartbeat, and his magnetic, husky voice sang out each word like a fairytale lullaby, melodious and enchanting: "Your legs aren't broken, it's your heart that's broken, but it's okay. You don't need to feel pain or sadness, because I will fix you, I promise."

...

As it turns out, he never goes back on his word.

He did it.