You're a damn bastard!
the next day.
At nine o'clock sharp, Jiang Songhe prepared the ingredients for two lunches and tentatively knocked on the door of room A. No one answered; it was still early, and Jonathan was probably still asleep.
At 10 o'clock sharp, Jiang Songhe, fully dressed in gloves and apron, carrying the same dishes as yesterday, went next door and knocked, but there was still no response from inside.
At 10:30, Jiang Songyun received a WeChat message. Jiang Songhe prioritized preparing his younger brother's nutritious meal and putting it in a thermos. He thought he would knock one last time, but if no one answered, he wouldn't wait.
No one opened the door, so he didn't wait any longer.
At 11:30, Jiang Songhe arrived and tucked the thermos into Jiang Songyun's arms. Just like last time, the younger brother devoured it in a flash, without giving any feedback or exchanging many pleasantries. After finishing his meal, he wiped his mouth and rushed off again as if his backside was on fire.
Jiang Songhe silently screwed on the empty bucket. The preliminary round was approaching, and it was normal for her younger brother to be anxious; she could understand.
At exactly twelve o'clock, Jiang Songhe left the building and suddenly wanted to observe the differences between the crowds and streets of Maner and Jingting. So he strolled around, stopping and starting, all the way back to the Tang Dynasty Hotel.
Before today, Man'er was just a concept to Jiang Songhe. His younger brother was here, so he was here. Although he was standing on the ground and breathing the air, the surrounding environment was blurry and indistinct.
It's like stepping into a virtual, chroma-composited scene, but knowing full well that the actual location is a cramped, rudimentary green screen studio cubicle; one should not become obsessed with it.
Now, he senses something real: those unconventional figures or buildings, noisy and extravagant as ever, have unknowingly revealed a touch of liveliness and warmth.
Jiang Songhe moved with such lightness that even the faces of the receptionists seemed to come alive.
"Mr. Jiang, Mr. Qiao has left you a bottle of Latahir 91. Please sign for it."
"So it was for me..." Jiang Songhe smiled politely, took the bottle of red wine with its dark red cap and yellowed label, and a pen. He then carefully signed his name and the date on the bill of lading, and asked, "He doesn't seem to be here today. Did he leave any message?"
"1991 was an outstanding year, and an outstanding year deserves an outstanding you."
With a slight twitch of her bony nose and a short breath, Jiang Songhe pursed her lips and nodded, gently stroking the four-digit number on the label with her thumb. The bottle seemed to warm to the touch, and the color of the cap appeared much brighter.
"Did he... say anything else? When will he be back or something?" Jiang Songhe scratched the pen with his index finger.
"Yes. If you're worried about it being air-shipped without my handling, just throw it away~. Also, starting tomorrow, you don't need to wait for me~."
You're overthinking it; it's just a machine that mimics others.
"Thank you for your hard work in conveying this message." Jiang Songhe crossed out his signature on the bill of lading and returned the wine and pen. "But this wine is too valuable. Please return it to Mr. Qiao if you have the chance."
...
Back in room B, Jiang Songhe used the wilted ingredients from the paper bag to recreate yesterday's dishes. He sat alone at the table and ate most of the food, except for the fish and rice porridge, which he didn't touch.
Another second day begins, and it collapses.
Time seemed to be on fast forward. In the green space that resembled a sand table, Jiang Songhe ate, exercised, slept, held online meetings, and occasionally cooked and delivered meals. Half a month passed like flowing water, and the preliminary round of the Star Show was tomorrow.
To power the humanoid recorder, Jiang Songhe exercised all day long. Exhausted, he washed up and went to bed early, before dark. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he fell into a deep sleep.
-
Bang bang bang.
Ugh, annoying.
Jiang Songhe was suddenly awakened by the knocking on the door. His eyelids and body still felt like lead. He frowned and lay there, trying to go back to sleep, but the uninvited guest seemed determined to keep coming. The noise at the door grew louder and faster.
Thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump—
"Ugh!!!" Jiang Songhe's head was throbbing from the disturbance. He violently rubbed his face, rolled off the bed and barely managed to stand up. The room light was on, but he couldn't bring himself to put on his slippers. So he ran barefoot to the entrance and flung open the door. "Who is it?!"
A wine bottle, as big as a meteor hammer, was swung horizontally in front of him.
Fortunately, Jiang Songhe possessed battle-hardened muscle memory, and reflexively tilted her head back and raised her chin, narrowly avoiding a nosebleed. However, she also felt a jolt of fear, and the drowsiness in her eyes vanished instantly.
Upon closer inspection, the weapon used in the attack turned out to be the Ratah 91 rifle that he himself had refused to accept just two weeks prior.
Jiang Songhe's anger flared up instantly. Without even opening the wine bottle to confirm the uninvited guest's identity, she directly shoved him and the wine out the door with her palm, saying, "Get out."
Learning from the previous lesson, Jiang Songhe was more careful, relying solely on absolute force to push the person out slightly and close the door a little.
They still managed to exploit a loophole.
The uninvited guest cunningly withdrew from the standoff, and Jiang Songhe lost his balance and became powerless. The other party, like an eel, took the opportunity to slip through the crack in the door and squeeze in.
Without any regard for martial ethics, he hooked his ankle with his back foot and tripped Jiang Songhe's bare calf, causing the floor mat under his feet to slip suddenly. He lost his balance and fell straight into the corner of the entrance hall.
Boom! Golden sparks fly everywhere!
The two bumped heads together, making a loud, resounding thud.
Jiang Songhe gritted his teeth and let out a muffled groan. The other person must have been in excruciating pain as well, howling in agony, "Ouch!! Jiang Songhe, you bastard!!!"
"How did I become such a bastard again?! You motherfucker!" Jiang Songhe squinted with one eye closed and the other half closed, pressing the fleshy part of his eye against the burning bump on his head. It took a while for his other senses to return to normal.
First, I smelled a strong odor of alcohol, and almost simultaneously, I saw a pair of long eyes brimming with tears.
Jiang Songhe slammed on the brakes and then fell silent, unsure whether to respond with "You've been drinking" or "Why are you crying?"
Suppressing his dizziness, he paused for a moment, trying to connect the two questions: "Why are you crying over a drink?"
Damn it, his brain must be damaged.
"You won't have dinner with me, and you won't accept my wine. What are you being so arrogant about?! You are, hiccup! Bastard!" The uninvited guest was very agitated after hearing this, but unexpectedly hiccuped in the middle of speaking. He was so ashamed and angry that he fell silent. His porcelain-white cheeks turned red instantly, and all his momentum disappeared.
Jiang Songhe raised an eyebrow in surprise, then found it hilarious, and even... cute. She couldn't help but chuckle, and her anger vanished.
"What are you laughing at?!" The uninvited guest sniffled, bumped the bottle against Jiang Songhe's chest, and muttered a curse.
"I'm laughing at you for trying to imitate me but not even getting it right." Jiang Songhe casually grabbed the wine bottle and stuffed it into his pocket. He moved his palm, which had been warming his forehead, and used his fingers as a comb to brush up the uninvited guest's silver hair. He pressed it against the symmetrical redness and swelling in the mirror and gently rubbed it, saying, "'You're so arrogant,' 'You're so funny,' I usually don't respond to that. That's too polite and has no power."
After rubbing for a while, Jiang Songhe suddenly realized that she had gotten too close due to dizziness and blurred vision, so she stopped smiling and withdrew her hand: "The preliminary round of the Star Show is tomorrow, you should go back early... I'll accept this wine, thank you."
After saying that, he picked up the wine bottle and turned to walk towards the bedroom. After taking a few steps, he stopped and added, turning his head to the side, "But I suggest you don't go back drunk, it's not safe. Just stay in the next room for the night. Please close the door behind you when you leave."
"What kind of advice are you giving?!"
Jiang Songhe had already walked into the living room and was secretly marveling at how teachable the young man was when he was suddenly struck hard from behind.
He flipped over in mid-air in disbelief, only to see the uninvited guest rush up, grab his jaw, and push him down hard, shoving him onto the sofa.
The two men played a few notes in unison. Jiang Songhe was both confused and annoyed. She raised her neck to scold him, but her mouth was sealed by a slightly cool thumb.
"You've said all sorts of nice and nasty things, why should I? I hate your detached, hypocritical attitude the most! Weren't you supposed to thank me? Hmm? You're supposed to drink the wine, right? Your mouth is so smelly and hard, it'll be perfect for dipping it in this. Open your mouth!"
He heard a "pop" as the cork was pulled out of his mouth. Jiang Songhe realized that his mouth had been forcefully pried open by a thumb, and his mouth was immediately filled with red wine. He tried to close his mouth, but it was pinched open again, and the bottle mouth made a clinking sound as it hit his teeth.
“Ugh…cough…Joe…Na…Xi…” Out of instinct, Jiang Songhe raised his head and swallowed passively to prevent himself from choking.
The wine seeped into the broken words, filling them and overflowing, flowing down the corners of his mouth and between his fingers to his chest, which undulated like ocean waves, wetting a large area.
Once not a drop was left, Jonathan threw away the empty bottle, leaned down and pressed down on it, like a thirsty cat drinking water, and used his tongue to eat up the remaining wine that he hadn't had time to finish.
With the risk of drowning gone, Jiang Songhe began breathing through his nose. After a few moments of rapid breathing, his limbs became more agile, and his anger flared up immediately. He arched his back, twisted his body, and with a powerful tug, gripped Jonathan's jaw and flipped him over, pinning him firmly beneath him.
"You...cough cough...are you looking for death?!" Jiang Songhe was so angry that her five fingers cracked from clenching them.
The perpetrator, who had just been ruthless and insane, was now sobbing and crying again: "Waaah, it hurts, waaaah."
Jiang Songhe stared wide-eyed at the chicken claw-like fingers in his palm. Damn it, it was the left one. His heart clenched, and he shrugged, releasing the chicken claw. He punched the sofa in frustration, turned his head, and hissed angrily, "You're always coming up with something out of nothing. What on earth is in your head?"
"I want you to hold my hand tightly."
Jiang Songhe thought to himself, "You're not a kite, how am I supposed to hold you?"
Jiang Songhe's hand was first held literally, palm to palm. It felt like a button had been pressed, and a warm, tingling sensation welled up in her stomach. Before she could fully process it, her hand was guided to explore between them.
Jiang Songhe was startled, suddenly realizing the possibility that she was being treated like a reusable toy by this person. How could she have been so stupidly licking his boots and thinking about everything for him? How pathetic was that?
The dark side of his heart began to spread wildly, and he laughed angrily, suddenly pulling his hand away and throwing Jonathan's hand away: "Holding hands like this, huh? Heh, fine."
Then, with one arm, he grabbed the person by the waist, bent them backward, and lifted them up, while on the other side, he vented his anger by locking them up and plundering them.
"Feeling good? Satisfied?!"
"Don't dodge!!!"
His downcast eyes held no trace of joy or sorrow, only a chilling malice. Jiang Songhe manipulated him like a fish out of water, removing its scales and bones as easily as picking up a mustard seed.
The fish drifted with the current, already lost in its own world, yet it still tried to stretch out its left fin to gain a share of control.
Jiang Songhe stroked the pattern on the injured fin, holding it close to the gill, and demanded with a fierce look, "What else do you want? Speak!"
"If you do this, I won't feel any pain."
"You're courting death." Jiang Songhe sneered, circling the white, slippery belly halfway around before slapping the fish's greasy scales with his palm: "Does it hurt?"
The fish thrashed and flicked its tail fin.
Without giving a chance to argue, Jiang Songhe slapped the fish again, pulling it by its tail fin, lifting its gills, and biting into its fragile, blunt spine: "Does it hurt?"
The uncontrolled trembling revealed the answer, but it was still far from enough to quell the anger.
This hatred surged and expanded, manifesting as a powerful sword aura that could pierce through everything, easily disemboweling the fish awaiting slaughter.
I'm going to fucking eat you right now!
The sword pierced the fish's soul, and the fish cried out in agony. A burst of brilliant light erupted from the blade, overwhelming the fish's vision with a hysterical outburst.
...
Jiang Songhe let out a soft "Ah!" and immediately opened her swollen, dry eyes.
Her breathing was still a little rapid, and her pajamas were already soaked with sweat, turning a heavy dark color.
He pulled his hand out from under the covers, and a pale white chrysanthemum bloomed prominently in his palm.
"I broke my vow."
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