"I don't want to be here." Fan Zhiyi closed his eyes and felt that he was a little willful, but what was wrong with him being willful? He just didn't want to stay here.
The more Fan Zhiyi thought about it, the more aggrieved he felt. Sometimes he felt like Yue Tang, and sometimes he felt like Fan Zhiyi: "Who am I? Yue Tang is so pitiful, A Yu is so pitiful too..." As he spoke, he felt like crying, "I'm so pitiful too. I always get hurt, and always get chased by ghosts, wuwuwu..." Fan Zhiyi began to sob loudly, "My head still hurts right now, I'm so miserable."
He heard Bing Nandong sigh, and then he put his hands on his forehead, sending him spiritual energy. He also ruffled his hair and whispered in an awkward tone, "It's okay, it doesn't hurt anymore."
He spoke very gently, reminding Fan Zhiyi of his mother, whose face he could no longer remember. He weakly called out, "Mom..." Then he remembered his miserable childhood and real life, and while crying, he added a word as soft as a mosquito: "Of..."
Bing Nandong's hand froze, his face darkening instantly. Xu Qing came over and asked, "What's wrong with him?"
"It's a side effect of pronation, and your external perception is blurred." After saying that, he immediately picked up Fan Zhiyi and carried him horizontally. "You go to the Immortal Court first. I'll find a doctor for Fan Zhiyi and then meet up with you at the Immortal Court."
"Okay, then, Big Brother, be careful."
"You too."
Fan Zhiyi's memory only stopped when he fell asleep in Qian's house. When he woke up, he found himself in an unfamiliar place, so he immediately propped himself up, but the excessive force made him dizzy.
He caught the handkerchief that fell from his forehead because of his movement, slowed down, and then began to look around the place.
The window was facing him, and with a little ventilation, the room temperature was kept just right, making him, a patient, feel comfortable. He had changed into suitable new clothes and the wound on his arm was wrapped in gauze.
There was a sound of pitter-pattering rain outside, and the flickering candlelight silhouette was cast on the opposite wall.
This was followed by the sound of footsteps, moving from the outer room into the inner room. The sound spread in the quiet room and became increasingly amplified.
Fan Zhiyi shrank back and subconsciously reached for the dagger at his waist. When he found it was not there, he suddenly felt panic-stricken.
The gauze curtain was lifted, revealing the boy's delicate eyebrows and eyes.
Seeing Fan Zhiyi's defensive look, Bing Nandong said, "It's me. This is the inn."
Fan Zhiyi heaved a sigh of relief after hearing this. Bing Nandong walked to his bedside, took the handkerchief from Fan Zhiyi's hand, shuffled it in the basin beside the bed, then covered Fan Zhiyi's head with it and pressed it: "You have a fever. You will feel better if you lie down."
Fan Zhiyi subconsciously fell back due to the force of the covering, and was coaxed back to lie down with his eyes closed. Then he opened his eyes and looked at Bing Nandong: "Why are we in the inn?"
"Because you kept crying and making a fuss and refused to stay in the Qian Mansion."
Fan Zhiyi blushed. He had endured illnesses and fevers by himself before, and he didn't know he had so many bad habits. "Really?"
"Why would I lie to you?" Bing Nandong lowered his eyes and looked at him, "Does the injury on your hand still hurt? Ever since it started raining last night, I heard you groaning, saying that your hand hurt. It only got better after I gave you some spiritual power."
"It's an old problem." Fan Zhiyi stretched his arms. "Do you remember the injuries I got last time? The ones on my waist and hands. Every time it rains, it always hurts a little."
Bing Nandong was silent, staring at him motionlessly, and seemed to be feeling a little guilty.
This guy just can't learn to relieve himself of stress. It seems that my previous advice to him to learn to use external forces to consume others was in vain. He still didn't listen. Fan Zhiyi changed the subject: "What about my dagger?"
"I'll get it for you."
When he came back, Bing Nandong brought a glass of water to Fan Zhiyi, then placed the dagger beside him, looked at him quietly, and couldn't help but call out, "Fan Zhiyi."
Fan Zhiyi drank a glass of water in one gulp and felt much better. "Yeah."
Bing Nandong leaned forward slightly, opened his mouth several times but couldn't say anything, just feeling awkward.
Fan Zhiyi encouraged: "It's okay, just say whatever you want to say."
After several seconds, Fan Zhiyi felt like he was about to fall asleep, and then he heard Bing Nandong's slightly ethereal voice: "I've been thinking a lot recently."
"Oh." Fan Zhiyi's eyelids were twitching. He felt like he couldn't stay awake any longer. He was so sleepy.
Bing Nandong rarely refrained from criticizing Fan Zhiyi's perfunctory attitude. He gripped the cup so tightly that the tips of his ears turned red. After much deliberation, he finally said, "If you don't want to cancel the engagement now, then why not just not cancel it?"
After waiting for a few seconds without a response, Bing Nandong thought Fan Zhiyi didn't understand what he meant. He ignored his own racing heartbeat and mustered up the courage to say, "I..."
Bing Nandong: "..."
He saw that Fan Zhiyi was fast asleep, and this time he didn't even say "oh" to him.
Bing Nandong had mixed feelings. Finally, he sighed and went out.
When Fan Zhiyi woke up naturally the next day, he found that it was still raining outside.
He rubbed his eyes and touched his forehead. He felt that the fever seemed to have subsided. He turned over and was surprised to see his dagger next to his pillow.
After putting away the dagger and getting out of bed, Fan Zhiyi took out his outer robe and put it on, then stretched.
I don’t know if his limp leg was because he was injured last night, but he was still moving it so vigorously. It hurts even more this morning.
Fan Zhiyi stretched his legs and twisted his body casually while standing in front of the window.
The inn has a good location. Looking down from the window, the whole town is shrouded in mist and does not seem very real.
After simply activating his body, Fan Zhiyi poured himself a glass of water and drank it down with a satisfied sigh. Only then did he feel that he was alive again.
But what about Bing Nandong?
Fan Zhiyi opened the door, and the sound of rain became more real. The wind blew in, making the door slam, and it was a bit cold.
Fan Zhiyi thought it would be better not to act rashly, as he couldn't recognize where he was.
However, Fan Zhiyi didn't have to wait too long, Bing Nandong came back. He folded his umbrella and placed it at the door. He found that the door was not closed tightly, so he pushed it gently and it opened. He looked up and found Fan Zhiyi sitting on the stool with his hand on his cheek, staring at him boredly.
Bing Nandong closed the door and said, "Are you awake? Are you feeling better?"
"Yeah." Fan Zhiyi nodded, "Where did you go?"
"I dealt with some matters at the Immortal Court."
The mention of this made Fan Zhiyi perk up: "What about Qian Hu's matter? Has there been any result?"
As he spoke, Fan Zhiyi poured a glass of water and placed it on the opposite side, looking at him eagerly.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
