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It was three in the morning. Everything was silent. Even the wind outside the window had died down.
Lin Xiyan's eyes snapped open, as if he'd been roughly pulled from deep water. His heart pounded, his breathing was rapid, and a layer of cold sweat covered his forehead. It was like this again. He woke up without warning, then was swallowed by endless silence and darkness.
He lay stiffly, staring at the blurred lines on the ceiling. The cold air, like a thick liquid, slowly squeezed his chest, making it so heavy that he couldn't breathe. The bustle and warmth of the day faded away like the ebbing tide, leaving behind a deeper, colder emptiness and loneliness.
Those deliberately suppressed, chaotic thoughts, under the cover of darkness, surged up madly, like a black tide, hitting his shaky sanity wave after wave.
What exactly is like...?
Love...what is it?
Jiang Yibai's face, his smiling eyes, his clingy coquettishness, his unconditional approach, the warm and clean scent on his coat... Scenes flashed before my eyes, so clear, yet so unreal.
Why would I get close to such a good person? Why would I force the warmth that he doesn't deserve on him?
He's been good to me...how can I repay him?
What can I give back?
A heavy, suffocating sense of guilt gripped him. He felt like a thief who had stolen a treasure, constantly in a state of anxiety, awaiting the moment of judgment. He couldn't bear it. He was accustomed to coldness and loneliness, to giving and repaying. But what Jiang Yibai gave him was something he couldn't measure, no matter how much he tried.
How to express...correctly?
Will it... mess everything up?
Will it... disappoint him?
Unknown fear and deep-seated inferiority wound around him like vines, tightening ever tighter. He felt like he was trapped in transparent amber, looking out at the warm, bright world outside, yet forever separated by an insurmountable barrier.
Maybe... it shouldn't have started in the first place.
Maybe... disappearing is the best thing.
It shouldn't exist. It's not worth it. It's a burden.
These cold, sharp thoughts hissed like venomous snakes, burrowing into his ears and lingering in his brain. His heart felt like it was being gripped tightly by an icy hand, the pain numbing. Despair spread like thick ink dropped into clear water, rapidly staining every sense.
He sat up slowly, his movements as stiff as a puppet. In the darkness, his eyes were open, empty and unfocused.
The cold air touched his skin, causing him to shudder. He subconsciously reached out and groped around. His fingertips touched the soft cashmere coat beside the pillow.
He jerked his hand back as if he had been burned.
The warmth became so dazzling at this moment, as if silently mocking his unbearable and embarrassing state.
Not worthy.
In the darkness, it seemed as if there was a voice whispering in my ears, urging and tempting me.
Let's end it.
Now that it's over, you don't have to worry about how to repay it.
Now that it's over, there's no need to be afraid of losing.
It's over now. I don't have to bear this suffocating heaviness anymore.
He threw back the quilt and stepped barefoot on the cold cement floor. The coldness instantly spread from the soles of his feet to his whole body, but he was completely unaware.
He walked over to the rickety old nightstand and pulled open the drawer. Inside were a few odds and ends. His fingers groped in the darkness, cold and precise.
Then he touched a small piece of cool metal.
It was that small folding fruit knife. It was usually used to peel fruit. The blade was very thin, but very sharp.
He took it out. The coldness of the metal spread through his fingertips, strangely bringing a sense of illusory peace.
He sat back on the bed, lowered his head, and looked at the faint metal reflection in his hand.
That's it.
A clear yet numb thought emerged.
Wrist. Right. There.
He stretched out his left arm, and the sleeve slipped down, revealing a thin, pale wrist. Under the skin, pale blue veins were faintly visible.
He used his right hand, clumsily but with extraordinary determination, to open the knife.
The cold blade touched my skin, causing a slight shudder.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if to gather up his last bit of strength. His mind was blank, with only that single, intense thought remaining.
A sharp, cold sting came from my wrist.
It was very slight, like being scratched by something sharp.
Then, there was the feeling of a warm, sticky liquid slowly oozing out.
He opened his eyes.
In the extremely weak moonlight that leaked in through the gap in the curtains, he saw a thin, dark red line appear on the pale wrist. So conspicuous, so... glaring.
A few drops of blood slowly seeped out, gathered together, and then slid down along the skin texture.
One drop. Two drops. They landed on the dark sheets, creating tiny, dark dots.
The expected relief did not come.
The sharp sting and the touch of the warm liquid were like a needle, suddenly piercing the bubble of despair in which he was immersed.
What is he doing?
This thought broke into the dead mind late and sharply.
Almost at the same time, the black coat lying quietly beside the pillow suddenly caught his eye. In the extreme darkness, it was like a silent and stubborn brand.
Jiang Yibai's face, his aggrieved and coquettish look, the way he said brightly, "I will only sing for you", the way he clumsily but persistently stuffed various snacks into his hands, the way he hugged him tightly and said, "I'm jealous"... All the scenes that he had deliberately suppressed and covered with despair, at this moment, emerged like a tidal wave, so clear that it was suffocating.
And that sentence... with a crying tone...
[Don't look at those useless things... Look at me...]
His heart felt like it was being gripped by an invisible hand, and the pain made him suddenly bend over and curl up.
The stinging in my wrist continued, and warm blood continued to flow out slowly.
But...it's different.
The cold, dark tide that tempted people to sink seemed to have been torn open by this silent coat and those surging memories.
A huge, belated panic and fear poured over his head like ice water, making his hands and feet instantly cold, and his whole body began to tremble violently and uncontrollably.
He dropped the knife in his hand with a jerk, and the metal landed on the concrete floor with a sharp, piercing sound.
He looked at the tiny wound and the winding bloodstain on his wrist, as if he were looking at something extremely terrifying. His breathing suddenly became rapid and chaotic, and tears rolled down without warning, hitting his arm and mixing with the blood.
It's not relief. It's fear.
He almost... He almost...
Trembling violently, he stretched out his uninjured right hand and, trembling and almost panicking, grabbed the folded coat, clutching it tightly in his arms like a lifeline. He buried his face deep in the soft, warm fabric, greedily absorbing the reassuring scent that lingered there.
The sobs were muffled by the fabric, broken and suppressed.
He didn't know how long he huddled in the darkness, until the violent trembling slowly subsided, leaving only unstoppable, subtle sobs.
He raised his head, tears streaking his face. He looked at the crumpled coat in his arms, then at the wound on his wrist that had stopped bleeding and only left a thin red mark.
A strong and unprecedented urge drove him.
He freed one hand and groped for his cell phone, which had been thrown under the pillow. The screen lit up, stinging his eyes.
He clumsily opened the only chat interface with his still trembling fingers.
The cursor flashes in the input box.
He stared for a long time, his vision blurred by tears.
Then, extremely slowly, letter by letter, he typed the two words, using all his strength.
【Jiang Yibai.】
His finger hovered over the send button, trembling violently. In the end, he didn't press it.
He deleted those three words.
I couldn't. I couldn't let him know. I couldn't let him worry. I couldn't... drag him into this mess.
He exited the chat box, his fingers trembling as he unconsciously clicked on another function - real-time location sharing.
On the screen was a cold electronic map. A tiny dot of light, beside the blue dot representing his location, glowed quietly.
That was something Jiang Yibai had insisted on sharing with him, saying "this way I can always find you", and he wouldn't allow him to refuse.
He felt troubled at that time, but now, that little bit of light is like a lighthouse on the dark sea.
He stared at the point of light, as if he could draw some illusory courage and comfort from it. He stared like that until his eyes were sore and his breathing slowly calmed down.
Finally, he exited all interfaces and turned off the screen.
The room fell into complete darkness again.
He hugged the coat, curled up and lay down, carefully hiding his injured wrist in his arms. His cold body gradually warmed up.
Tears flowed silently, soaking the pillow.
But this time, it was no longer complete despair.
The tiny wound ached faintly, like a wake-up call. The soft touch in his arms and the stubborn light in his mind were like a thin yet resilient thread, pulling him back, bit by bit, from the boundless abyss of darkness.
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