Chapter 31 [VIP]
Mr. Problem has been acting strangely lately.
At first, there were only ice packs constantly placed by the door, meals heated up at set times, and the landlord who was nowhere to be found.
Han Shu didn't take it too seriously, after all, he was suffering from insomnia and loss of appetite due to the burn on his left arm, and he relied on watching movies to distract himself from the day.
Later, after the blisters from the burns subsided, two copies of "Fear of Flying" with notes tucked inside and "Dangerous Liaisons" with bookmarks were found by the door.
The former is a novel published by Penguin Books that begins with the protagonist's fear of flying and gradually reveals her repressed and constrained life. The latter is a work by Japanese psychologist Tamaki Saito, which analyzes the most complex mother-daughter relationship among kinship relationships.
There were two lines of text written on the note.
The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become absolutely free, so that your very existence is a form of rebellion.
On the page marked with a bookmark, a few passages caught her attention.
"Most mother-daughter problems are perceived by the daughter through her mother's sense of unease and suffocation; undirected resistance or anger only intensifies the pain. The mother, however, firmly believes her actions stem from love and remains oblivious to her daughter's suffering."
"The relationship between mothers and daughters is complex, and the frequency of interaction differs from that with other people. Even if a daughter dislikes her mother, she still has aspects of liking her; this may be the bond between them. The mother a daughter knows is only one part of herself as a mother; she is also an independent individual, and before becoming a mother, she was herself."
As Han Shu's fingertips brushed over the vigorous and powerful handwriting, an unknown corner of his heart crumbled, leaving him feeling utterly weak and aching.
He said he wasn't good at comforting people, which was just self-deprecation.
This unexpected approach was the best she could imagine.
Words have power.
Books are silent, yet they are powerful and thought-provoking.
Han Shu slumped back onto the bed, holding a book in one hand, and read for the entire morning.
Just before lunchtime, there was a knock on the door.
Han Shu jumped up, opening the door as he said, "I've already seen Teacher Wen's 'Fear of Flying'—"
The enthusiastic sharing came to an abrupt end.
It wasn't Wen Zhiyu outside the door, but Wen Zhiyu's aunt.
The auntie smiled and said, "Young lady, if it's convenient for you now, I'll clean the room."
Han Shu subtly moved to the left, trying to hide the mess inside the room. "No need, Auntie, I can clean it up myself."
"Xiao Wen specifically told me that your arm was burned and it was inconvenient for you, so she asked me to clean it up." The aunt pulled her over, "Go sit in the living room, it will only take half an hour."
Han Shu said embarrassedly, "Auntie, I'm almost better now, it's really nothing."
The aunt selectively ignored her refusal and asked, "Which clothes need to be washed?"
"No need, no need!"
"Are these on the sofa?"
"Aunt--"
Ultimately, the resistance was futile.
Han Shu sat in the living room, feeling uncomfortable all over. If it were a paid stay, the room rate would include cleaning fees, which would be perfectly reasonable, but she wasn't.
Answering questions to offset the room fee, Wen Zhiyu hasn't asked any questions for several days. Even if she asked ten or a hundred questions every day, her efforts would still be far from commensurate with what the other party gave her.
Han Shu pressed the spine of the book against his nose and looked towards the empty staircase.
Living under the same roof, she hadn't seen him for three days. She had no idea what he was up to...
Wen Zhiyu pricked up his ears and caught the faint sound of the vacuum cleaner running. Only then did he feel relieved and climb into bed.
The exhaustion after 72 hours without sleep is devastating; the moment my eyes touched the pillow, my thoughts were already scattered. Within seconds, I drifted into an endless dream.
Liang Song, arm in arm with a middle-aged man in a suit but with a large belly, said, "Dad's here, say hello."
Wen Zhiyu's gaze didn't even reach the doorknob. Standing inside the house, he looked up and called out "Dad" without any emotion.
Wen Qi pinched his cheek and patted his head. "Have you grown taller?"
Liang Song twirled her exquisitely permed hair with her fingers and complained in a coquettish voice, "You haven't been here for two months, of course our son has grown taller."
"It's my fault." Wen Qi withdrew his hand and put his arm around the woman's slender waist. "I've been busy with the company lately, traveling a lot, and I really haven't had any free time."
Liang Song snorted coldly, turning his flawlessly beautiful face to the side, "Whether it's because the company is busy or not, you know in your heart."
Wen Zhiyu lowered his gaze and happened to see Liang Song's high heels and legs that were covered by stockings and looked dark.
Every time the man called Dad comes, Mom dresses differently than usual, and today is no exception.
Wen Qi lowered his voice, his breathing slightly rapid, "You've gone to all this trouble to come here, and you're just wasting your time saying this?"
Liang Song chuckled, "My son is still here!"
Wen Qi knocked on the door frame, but before he could say anything, he closed the bedroom door.
"They're quite perceptive."
“”
What did I say?
"..."
The man and woman lowered their voices, but the conversation was still somewhat...
The heels slammed against the floor. Liang Song seemed to be pressed against the crack in the door. "Son, go play with your blocks for a while!"
Wen Zhiyu remained silent, waiting for the sound of high heels to fade into the distance, followed by the sound of the door slamming shut.
The world finally quieted down.
He slowly walked into the spacious game area and slowly sat down.
Countless sets of building blocks were used up to create houses of varying sizes and heights, all connected together. Castles, villas, cottages, cattle pens, supermarkets, gardens, hospitals—this was his own little town.
Wen Zhiyu watched for a while, then stretched out his arms and pushed hard—
The town collapsed.
He sorted the scattered building blocks one by one. The pillars were placed to one side, the red and blue walls to one side, the ornate roof to one side, and the wooden fence to one side.
After slowly categorizing everything, he began to select and rebuild again.
The town has been rebuilt, exactly the same as before.
Wen Zhiyu looked at it for a while longer, then pushed it again with all his might—
The town was reduced to ruins once again.
He lost all awareness of his surroundings, mechanically repeating the actions of stacking and pushing blocks. Countless times, for an indescribable amount of time, he repeated this cycle in silence until his stomach began to rumble.
Wen Zhiyu wanted to go to the kitchen, but her mother had said that she couldn't run around when her father came, and she could only leave her room with permission.
He turned around, clutching his stomach, and stared silently at the door, waiting. He waited for Aunt Zhang to push the door open and exclaim, "Why aren't you asleep yet? It's so late!" Then he could naturally say, "Because I haven't had lunch yet, and I'm very hungry."
But he waited and waited, and no one came.
Through the crack in the door, he could see the lights flickering in the hallway. From his mother's room, he could occasionally hear muffled thuds. But no one ever came.
Where he is, there will always be an island, forever isolated from the world.
Wen Zhiyu pushed aside the building blocks, lay on his side, curled up, and kept his eyes fixed on the door that could only be seen from the inside.
"Bang! Bang!"
Wen Zhiyu suddenly sat up, his gaze sweeping around as he panted heavily. There were his pajamas still by the bed, the bathroom door half-open, the computer lying on the bedside table, and a door that looked almost exactly like the one he remembered.
Outside the door, the housekeeper asked softly, "Xiao Wen, is it convenient to clean the master bedroom now?"
Wen Zhiyu wiped his face hard, put on his pajamas, and then dragged himself to the door. His hand on the doorknob, the dream finally dispelled by reality.
He pulled it open forcefully, "Aunt Qin, is this convenient?"
Seeing his sleepy eyes, Aunt Qin awkwardly rubbed her hands together. "Did I wake you up?"
"It's alright, it's time to get up." Wen Zhiyu made way for him. From dozing off to being sprung up like a rocket, a surge of hunger erupted in his stomach, so he rubbed his belly and asked, "Is there anything to eat?"
Aunt Qin had a knowing look on her face. "Yes, it's done. Put it upside down on the dining table."
Wen Zhiyu nodded, and started to walk out, but then stopped and turned back. "Has she eaten?"
"I've eaten, I've seen the food. I've also cleaned the guest room."
Wen Zhiyu's tense brows relaxed a little, and he said "Thank you for your hard work" before going downstairs.
Aunt Qin watched his retreating figure and kept smiling.
Why are these two young people secretly caring about each other?
Wen Zhiyu opened the lid of the pot, and the aroma of tomato meat sauce spaghetti wafted out with the steaming hot water, making his stomach feel even emptier.
He wolfed down his food, but before he could take two bites, he heard light footsteps behind him.
"Wen Zhiyu, I've read a third of this novel!" Han Shu walked around to sit opposite him, paused for a moment, then changed the subject, "Are you having lunch or dinner?"
Wen Zhiyu's fingers, which were gripping the fork, idly picked at the wooden handle, and he glanced at the wall clock.
4:30 PM.
Lunch or dinner?
"I don't know." He glanced at her arm without making it obvious, and seeing that the burn was clearly improving, he lowered his eyelids and began to slurp his pasta politely.
Han Shu blinked. "I haven't seen you for the past few days. Have you been bursting with inspiration?"
"I suppose so," Wen Zhiyu said casually.
Han Shu put down her book, scratched her head in confusion, and looked the man who was silently eating his meal up and down.
The man in front of her seemed to have lost his mind; he didn't even bother to look at her, speaking very little, and was even more indifferent than on the day she first checked in.
That's a bit strange.
"What's wrong? Are you in a bad mood?"
Wen Zhiyu swallowed hard. "No."
Han Shu didn't reply, but she didn't press the matter either. She had something more important to say: "You haven't asked any questions for several days. Aren't you going to collect the rent?"
Wen Zhiyu stopped chewing, swallowed after a long while, put down his fork, and slowly lifted his eyelids. "There's one."
Han Shu listened attentively and asked, "Please tell me."
"I asked you before, if your husband cheated on you, and you had one bullet, who would you choose to kill? Do you remember?"
"Uh-huh."
Wen Zhiyu paused for a moment, then said, "It's a derivative issue."
"Ask away, ask away."
Wen Zhiyu added, "It was purely for creative purposes."
"I know, it's not like we just met today." Han Shu chuckled to himself. "No need for preamble, no one will misunderstand that you're Hannibal."
"..." Wen Zhiyu's eyes twitched, his hand hidden under the table clenched into a fist, and it took him a long time to muster up the courage, "Interfering in someone else's family is immoral. Isn't that right?"
"Of course." Han Shu nodded vigorously.
Wen Zhiyu's chest heaved with turmoil, but his face remained as calm as a deep well. He took a silent breath. "Is it immoral to like someone who has a family?"
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