Chapter 23
Yu Congyi frowned, instantly bending his arm to elbow Tang Zefei. Tang Zefei raised his wrist to block. Yu Congyi's swing was too forceful, and since he had only recently regained consciousness and the effects of the drug hadn't fully worn off, he saw stars. Tang Zefei seized the opportunity to grab his wrist, pinning it against the wall and locking it in place. Yu Congyi clenched his other fist and swung it hard at him, landing on Tang Zefei's cheek. Tang Zefei turned his head and caught the punch, immediately feeling a burning sensation on his cheek and a heat on the side of his nose, as if he was about to have a nosebleed. He chuckled and looked at Yu Congyi, "Are you serious?"
Yu Congyi remained silent, merely staring coldly at him, his chest still churning. He forcefully shook his wrist, but Tang Zefei showed no sign of letting go, instead lowering his voice, "The drug hasn't worn off yet, do you really have to leave now?"
"No need for Young Master Tang to trouble himself." Yu Congyi looked up at the other man, his eyes filled with annoyance. "Are you going to let go or not?"
Tang Zefei didn't answer, but tightened his grip and suddenly pulled Yu Congyi forward, causing him to stumble. Yu Congyi reacted instantly, and with the force of the impact, grabbed Tang Zefei's collar and yanked him hard. Then, he swung his left fist at Tang Zefei's chest. Seeing the ferocity of the blow, Tang Zefei quickly dodged, but Yu Congyi's fist was too powerful to avoid, and he took the full force of the blow to the chest. After a muffled thud, Tang Zefei stumbled backward and fell to the foot of the bed. He had never been beaten like this before. He braced himself against the edge of the bed, turned his head, and coughed. "Don't get in my way," Yu Congyi said coldly, and started to leave. Tang Zefei suddenly leaped up from the bedside, grabbed his arm, and pulled him aside.
Yu Congyi knew his opponent was no match for him, but he hadn't expected him to retaliate so quickly. Losing his balance, he was thrown onto the bed by Tang Zefei, his back hitting the bed frame with the same dull thud as before.
"The reason I didn't touch you this morning is because I like to make you watch me when I'm doing it to you," Tang Zefei blurted out, his mind reeling. He grabbed a tie and started to tie it around Yu Congyi's wrist. He thought he was probably on the verge of madness, easily spouting nonsense. Yu Congyi, ignoring the pain in his back, turned to look at him and saw that the other's already pale face was now even paler, almost bloodless, and his expression was bordering on weak madness. Yu Congyi felt a tightness in his chest, sensing something was about to happen, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He stopped struggling for the moment, and Tang Zefei slowly placed his fingers on his arm.
At this moment, although Tang Zefei had Yu Congyi pinned beneath him, a churning, aching sensation rose in his chest. He didn't know if it was from the beating he'd just received or from the turmoil in his emotions. Without realizing it, he reached out and gripped Yu Congyi's neck. A ringing in his ears and a wave of dizziness washed over him. He knew he was in trouble, but he didn't want to let go. In his hazy state, he didn't know what he was doing, but he remained motionless, using his remaining rationality to control the strength in his hand. His eyes were fixed on Yu Congyi's face, so close to his own. He thought he was simply angry at the other's lack of appreciation.
But he had no right to say that. Tang Zefei looked down, his gaze conflicted as he looked into Yu Congyi's eyes. Yu Congyi's eyes had never shown fear before; now they only held a hint of confusion. Yu Congyi's eyes were so dark, so dark that he could never see his own reflection clearly within them, even at this close distance. His black, misty pupils locked him in this wandering rainforest, just as he could never truly say, "Actually, I really like you."
She truly liked him, but it would hurt him. Could it still be called liking? Tang Zefei suddenly coughed softly, and for a moment, stars appeared before her eyes.
Yu Congyi noticed that Tang Zefei wasn't making any further moves. The other man's hand, gripping his neck, gradually weakened. Suddenly, Tang Zefei slumped to the side, tightly closing his eyes before opening them again. Yu Congyi noticed his expression was one of pain, his eyelashes trembling incessantly. His dark hair was disheveled across his face, and his cheeks were so pale that the veins were showing through. He displayed a shocking weakness.
"Call the doctor..." Despite the cold weather, Tang Zefei suddenly broke out in a cold sweat. Yu Congyi, unaware of what had happened, looked at him with a mixture of confusion and wariness. Tang Zefei removed his hand from his neck, rolled over onto the bed, took a deep breath, and forced himself to turn to look at Yu Congyi, saying in a low voice, "Why didn't you hit me earlier?" Seeing his state, Yu Congyi still couldn't stop mocking him, so he got up and knelt on the bed, looking down at him. His tone remained icy, "Is this what you wanted?"
Tang Zefei didn't answer him, closing his eyes as if he were about to fall asleep. Yu Congyi got off the bed, not glancing at him again, and turned to leave. As he descended the stairs, he encountered a servant from the Tang mansion. The servant, unaware of his identity and seeing him carried up by his master at midday, asked cryptically, "Sir, is the young master still upstairs?" Yu Congyi glanced up, thought for a moment, and nodded. "You should go up quickly; he doesn't seem well." Upon hearing this, the servant's face immediately turned anxious, and he hurried upstairs. Yu Congyi turned to watch him go upstairs, leaving with a sense of unease. Once outside the Tang mansion's courtyard, no one stopped him.
As Yu Congyi walked out of the Tang Mansion, his steps were heavy and swift. He believed that apart from the matter of revenge, Tang Zefei and he would have no further involvement. The current location and timing made it extremely inappropriate to take action against Tang Zefei. However, he also failed to encounter Lu Jin.
Lost in thought, he walked along the roadside. The midday snow had long since stopped. Under the streetlights, his shadow swayed and stretched long. The cold almost dragged him along, clinging to his shirt. He wasn't dressed warmly enough; Yu Congyi pulled his collar tighter. Outside the Tang mansion was a large elm grove. Perhaps due to the cold weather, there were few pedestrians on the street. The HSBC building, resplendent in gold, stood beside the avenue, a scene of both desolation and grandeur. Yu Congyi pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at it; it was nearly eight o'clock.
Inside the Tang mansion, Tang Zefei lay on his back on the bed, staring dizzily at the ceiling. The servants had already gone to fetch a doctor; unable to move, his anemia caused his eyes to glaze over with alternating dark and light black hues, making the crystal chandelier on the ceiling seem to spin incessantly. Yu Congyi had left, and Tang Zefei longed to get up and stand by the window to see his retreating figure, but he was too weak to even move.
No one thought to ask what had happened before; they panicked the moment they saw the host's expression. Some called for a doctor, others fetched hot towels, and still others fetched water. They entered the room quietly and left silently, closing the door behind them. Tang Zefei remained silent with her eyes closed, and everything around her proceeded with a calm and orderly demeanor. They all knew that this illness had come on suddenly and strangely, seemingly unpredictable and unfathomable.
Accompanying the dizziness and palpitations was a profuse sweat and chest tightness. Tang Zefei could hear the faint sounds outside, almost simultaneously with his own heartbeat—rapid, clear, like the ticking of a clock, a sound he could only feel in absolute stillness. At this moment, he was suddenly somewhat intoxicated by this tranquility. Lying there, he suddenly wondered, if one day during an attack, he were to die silently and unnoticed, could he die in such a state? Only at such times could he suddenly feel the quietness around him, and he himself was gradually adapting to, even enjoying, this pain.
He wasn't so pessimistic about his illness that he wanted to die, nor did he enjoy the pain. It was just that at this moment, he could calm down, empty his mind, and let his thoughts truly wander freely. His thinking gradually became quiet and focused, and the factory manager and the manager in his chaotic mind gradually became blurry, fading black dots. He cast aside all the complicated matters and affairs, and in the end, he was only thinking about Yu Congyi.
He's changed so much from how he was as a child. Tang Zefei thought blankly. Back then, Yu Congyi was quiet and cheerful, he could play the harmonica and sing, and he would occasionally smile at him, not with such a sullen expression all the time, like a storm was brewing. But that wasn't surprising, because people always change. Did he still remember him? Maybe he didn't remember at all. If he did, that would be good. If he did, he wanted to ask if there was a sequel to the Legend of the Eight Great Swordsmen…
That night, Yu Congyi went home and lay in bed. He had a dream. In the dream, he and Tang Zefei had switched places; he was now on top of Tang Zefei, choking him. Tang Zefei struggled violently, his strength astonishing, kicking and thrashing wildly in a near-death terror. Yu Congyi felt his limbs ache and weaken as he tried to subdue him, his fingers trembling uncontrollably as he gripped Tang Zefei's neck. He stared intently at Tang Zefei, but Tang Zefei's face was blurry, as if shrouded in a black mist. Suddenly, Jiang Fengming's voice came from outside the room, "Big brother, where are you?" Yu Congyi looked up. Tang Zefei took advantage of the chaos to get up and lunge at him. Suddenly, the surroundings darkened, and for some reason, he was plunged into a pitch-black abyss.
Yu Congyi opened his eyes.
Jiang Fengming stood by his bedside. It turned out that the "Big Brother" had come from outside his sleep. Jiang Fengming looked at Yu Congyi and noticed he was sweating profusely for no apparent reason. "Big Brother, did you have a nightmare?"
Yu Congyi slowly propped himself up and sat up, feeling that the effects of the drug in his body should have completely worn off. He looked up at Jiang Fengming, "It's so late, still not asleep?"
After being dragged into playing cards by Manager Liu and the others in the afternoon, Jiang Fengming sat down by his bedside, lowered his forehead to him, and asked in a slightly nasal voice, "Feel it, do I still have a fever?"
Yu Congyi reached out and touched his forehead. "It seems the fever has gone down. Did you take your medicine?"
"I've eaten." Jiang Fengming stood up again and walked to the bedside. "I'm going to take a shower first. Big brother, you can continue to sleep."
Yu Congyi nodded. Leaning against the bed, he turned to look out the window. He simply couldn't fall asleep. He regretted not killing Tang Zefei back then, but when he truly put himself in her shoes, he lacked the resolve to do it. He felt he couldn't end things so hastily, though he couldn't explain why. The way Tang Zefei always stared at him filled him with inexplicable unease; his heart raced, and he became alert. He disliked being stared at for long periods, especially by someone like Tang Zefei.
Yu Congyi didn't think he was particularly attractive, that Zhan Chu and Tang Zefei would have such feelings for him. Like them, since they were all men, he couldn't be unaware of their thoughts. It was just a novelty; without the support of lasting affection, such persistent pursuit would ultimately be pointless. He felt he had no intention of becoming a victim of their pursuit of novelty; he despised it and would never stoop to that level. Whether he loved women or men, Yu Congyi thought it didn't really matter, as long as the person was someone he truly loved.
He lost both his parents at a young age and lived with his adoptive father, Jiang Yiqun. No one ever told him about these things, but somehow he was convinced of it. Later, he unknowingly fell in love with Jiang Jiejie, but kept it hidden in his heart, and it ended without a trace. Yu Congyi couldn't explain what he loved about Jiang Jiejie. Was it her beauty? That would be too superficial, Yu Congyi asked himself. Yes, it was there, but not all of it. But if he were to say he loved her character, he didn't really understand her. And so he stubbornly persisted, both ignorantly and in his heart.
Outside the window, snow began to fall softly again. Yu Congyi threw off the covers, got out of bed, stood up, and walked to the window. Looking at the snow scene outside, he suddenly remembered something. He put on his clothes and left the bedroom, going straight to the study. He opened the glass door of the bookcase, scanned it with his eyes, and quickly pulled out a thick cloth-covered photo album from the top shelf of the tall bookshelf.
The photo album, over ten years old, had yellowed its brown cloth cover, but thanks to the weekly cleaning of the study, it hadn't fallen into the trap of gathering dust. Opening it, the photos inside, though worn, remained pristine. As Yu Congyi flipped through the pages, his hand gripping the foot of the page suddenly tightened. On this page was a group photo from his junior high school days at a church school. He'd heard a few years ago that the church had closed, and the school, naturally, no longer existed; he couldn't even quite remember the school's name. His gaze fell on the black-and-white photograph, and he immediately saw himself in it. Looking further to the side, standing next to him was a tall, blond foreign teacher.
He suddenly flipped through a few more pages, and on this page was a group photo of the whole school. The older students stood in the back row, and the younger students stood in the front. With a "click," the moment was captured in the photo. This time, Yu Congyi didn't look for himself. He took the album and placed it on the table. He turned on the lamp and looked at it carefully, finally finding the short, black-haired foreign boy.
He remembered him. The boy was several years older than him, yet had been his best friend for a time during junior high school. Everyone called the little boy "Fei," saying he was an Italian child who grew up in China. Yu Congyi vaguely remembered that the boy seemed particularly timid, only relaxing and smiling when he saw him, and always liked to hold his hand and run on the hillside behind the church. But then the boy mysteriously disappeared, and even inquiries with the nuns and foreign teachers yielded no results, leaving him quite puzzled for a while. Now, Yu Congyi carefully examined the boy's face in the photograph for a few seconds, and his heart suddenly skipped a beat.
He had actually been thinking about this for a long time, but tonight he was determined to confirm his guess. His gaze swept to the next few pages, landing on the densely packed list of school personnel, searching word by word. Each graduate received a copy of this thick booklet; some found it too troublesome and simply didn't want it, but Yu Congyi had taken it and kept it on his bookshelf until now. The first page listed the names of school staff, none of them containing the character "Fei." Yu Congyi continued searching, and the second page listed the students—the three characters "Tang Zefei" appeared before his eyes. Yu Congyi's hand holding the book trembled. He continued looking down, until he had seen all the names of the elementary school students in his grade, but still no one else had "Fei" in their names. The three square black characters "Tang Zefei" returned to his eyes, and Yu Congyi couldn't help but reach out and press his finger on the name. It really was him, it really was him. With a "snap," he closed the album, and Yu Congyi suddenly pushed his desk and stood up, feeling a little flustered. The confirmation of his guess didn't bring him joy; he even felt a little regretful. Why Tang Zefei? He was the playmate he looked forward to seeing most during his junior high school years.
Closing his eyes, Yu Congyi thought of that elementary school boy. He should have realized it sooner; how much that little boy resembled Tang Zefei now! Only Tang Zefei had grown up considerably, her features so striking that he didn't want to look directly at her. He should have realized it was Tang Zefei, but he wasn't sure; he had to see it with his own eyes to confirm it—how could the boy who wasn't even as tall as his shoulder back then be so tall now?
Tang Zefei. Yu Congyi suddenly felt a terrible headache. Thinking about how Tang Zefei now seemed so different from that child, he put the photo album back at the back of the bookshelf and quietly left the study. A surge of emotion welled up inside him; he often felt a pang of pity for the past, like unwilling to shatter a glass bottle holding a cherished dream. Recalling the suspicious circumstances surrounding Jiang Jiejie's death, he decided to investigate the truth himself, starting with Yang Xiang.
Tang Zefei was helped to a sofa on the first floor by the servants. Dr. Xu had already arrived, carrying a large medical kit as usual. There was an emergency at the hospital today, so she arrived a little later than usual. In just ten minutes, Tang Zefei was already trembling as if he had lost consciousness, only able to exhale short, labored breaths. The servants hurriedly brought over a cotton pad to lay Tang Zefei's arm flat and then brought him oral medication to drink.
Dr. Xu rolled up Tang Zefei's sleeve and quickly connected the syringe tubing to the reservoir tube. She glanced at Tang Zefei's face and frowned slightly. "Why is the reaction so severe today?" The frequency of Tang Zefei's attacks was very irregular, almost unpredictable. Therefore, Dr. Xu always rushed over after receiving a last-minute call, and she was always filled with trepidation when she arrived.
“Young Master was in the room with his friend this evening, and we don’t know what happened,” the maid said anxiously, bowing her head. She couldn’t explain clearly either. “We didn’t hear anything. That gentleman came out and said Young Master was acting strangely. We went upstairs and found him like this.” As she spoke, Dr. Xu stood up and deftly turned Tang Zefei’s chin, brushing aside his hair to examine him. “What happened to your face?” On Tang Zefei’s profile, near his jaw, was the mark left by Yu Congyi’s punch when he grabbed Tang Zefei’s arm. Yu Congyi’s punch had been forceful; the ground was now bruised.
"It's nothing," Tang Zefei shook his head weakly, opened his eyes to look at Dr. Xu, feeling as if he were floating. He took a few difficult breaths and then closed his eyes again. Dr. Xu sighed, and the maid beside him exclaimed, "Oh dear, that's just how the young master is. He won't tell us anything, he just says it's nothing."
"You had the injection this afternoon, right?" Dr. Xu pressed on the spot, receiving a slight frown from Tang Zefei. She shook her head. "Don't you know your own body? Be careful."
"I know," Tang Zefei said breathily. His body sank into the soft leather sofa, feeling drowsy and adrift like he was floating on endless clouds. He was thinking about Yu Congyi again. Yu Congyi had slept in his bed today, gotten up, fought with him, beat him up, and then left. Thinking of this, he suddenly smirked and chuckled softly. How interesting.
Dr. Xu glanced at him, puzzled. "What happy thing came to mind?"
Tang Zefei kept her eyes closed, only slightly raising the corners of her mouth. Just then, a servant came up to report that Madam had arrived.
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