Chapter 69
The days flow slowly in the smell of hospital disinfectant, like dripping salt water.
The tablet computer given by Brother Qi became my only entertainment. It was filled with the latest and hottest comedy variety shows, as well as various games that required maximum recharge and dazzling character equipment.
He probably wanted to use this noisy and lively atmosphere to fill the quiet void left by my illness.
But he himself was also busy as a top. As the person in charge of the Long family's business in the UK, he always had endless meetings and endless documents to sign during the day. Before leaving, he always gave his bodyguard repeated instructions with concern, his eyes as sharp as a knife, grazing the two tall and silent figures at the door.
However, a pattern soon emerged.
As soon as Brother Seven was rushed off by the phone, Bodyguard A would hear a slightly exaggerated gasp from the door: "Hiss... my stomach... suddenly hurts!"
Or bodyguard B leans against the wall, looking forbearing: "My foot... my foot is cramping!"
Then Chuyi and Shiwu would appear "at the right time", supporting their companions who were "suddenly feeling unwell" with a look of "concern", muttering "Go to the lounge and lie down", and quickly disappear at the end of the corridor.
Then, the door will be pushed open silently a crack.
Atobe Keigo's figure slipped in quietly, like a shadow that had regained its brilliance.
This week, I almost watched him transform little by little from that emaciated, bearded, and empty-eyed "homeless man" into the familiar, dazzling, almost blinding Ice Emperor.
A well-tailored smoky grey turtleneck cashmere sweater replaced his wrinkled suit, outlining his newly firm and smooth shoulders and arms. His jaw was smooth, his carefully styled hair was moist and fragrant, and the pride and spirit in his eyes were tenaciously rekindled.
Seeing him like this, the big stone in my heart finally fell to the ground.
At this moment, he was sitting on a chair beside my bed, with his head slightly lowered, holding a small silver fruit knife in his hand, concentrating on working on a rosy apple.
The slender and powerful fingers controlled the blade steadily, and the peel was cut into thin long strips that fell down continuously. The movement was smooth and pleasing to the eye.
"Hey," I tilted my head to watch his smooth movements, my eyes falling on the lines of his forearms that were slightly tense from the effort, "Those arm muscles... seem to be starting to come back, right?"
He didn't stop peeling, but just let out an extremely gorgeous and matter-of-fact hum from his nose: "Of course."
That tone was the familiar pride that belonged to Keigo Atobe.
I couldn't help but burst out laughing. "Oshizuka told me that someone's been working out like crazy in the gym these past few days. He's been working out like a dog. I saw the pictures!"
I proudly punctured his seemingly calm demeanor.
Atobe's movements paused almost imperceptibly, and the peel he was peeling almost broke.
He glanced at me quickly, and a faint blush seemed to pass through his ears. Then he regained his composure and continued as if nothing had happened: "...that talkative fellow Oshitsuki."
He cut a small piece of the peeled, perfectly round apple and held it to my mouth.
I leaned over and bit into the sweet flesh, my eyes fixed on the side of his neck, so close. A cool, refreshing fragrance with a familiar aftertaste lingered faintly.
"Hmm?" I sniffed, like a curious little animal, and moved closer, almost touching the skin of his wrist. "Atobe...did you change your perfume?"
The smell is very special, cool but with an indescribable gentle base, and there is an inexplicable sense of familiarity.
His body seemed to stiffen for a moment, the hand offering the apple stopped mid-air, his Adam's apple rolled slightly, and he cast his gaze out the window, pretending to be calm: "Well, recently... I changed to a new custom one."
"Customized?" I became even more curious and asked, "What tune?"
He was silent for a few seconds before looking back at me. There was a tiny light in his eyes that I couldn't understand, and his voice was lowered and gentle.
"...using your bottle of 'No Man's Land Rose' as the original base note." He paused, as if weighing his words, "The perfumer added some woody notes of fir and cedar, and a touch of amber. To make it more suitable for me."
My eyes widened instantly.
"Atobe Keigo!" I ignored my wounds and sat up straighter. My voice was raised with disbelief and accusation. "That's too much! You stole my perfume?"
He looked at my angry expression, and the discomfort he had just felt disappeared without a trace in an instant. The corners of his mouth raised up an extremely gorgeous and provocative arc, and his eyes were filled with a triumphant and undisguised smile.
He leaned over, so close that I could see the curve of his thick eyelashes. His warm breath brushed against my ear, and he declared with a hint of dominance:
"How can it be called stealing if I like it? It's called... sharing."
"You...!" I was choked by his unreasonable words and was speechless, and my cheeks were burning uncontrollably.
The word "sharing" is like a small hook, tickling people's hearts.
The ward was filled with the sweet scent of apples and the cool, familiar fragrance of his body; the air seemed to have turned into warm, sticky honey.
At this moment so warm that it's almost dripping with icing sugar—
"Bang!"
The door of the ward was pushed open suddenly and hit the wall with a dull thud!
Chuyi leaned in with a pale face, his voice changing tone due to excessive nervousness, with a cracked voice: "Seventh Young Master is here! Quick! Come out quickly!!"
Dead silence.
The air that was still warm, sweet and fragrant just a second ago was instantly frozen into ice.
The gorgeous smile on Atobe's face seemed to be paused and froze in an instant.
The triumphant and doting smile in his eyes was completely extinguished with a puff, like a candle flame swept by a strong wind, the moment he heard the words "Seventh Young Master". Only the pure shock of being caught in the act of adultery remained, and he could not hide his guilty conscience at all.
Almost instinctively, he suddenly hid the peeled apple behind his back, his movements so fast that they sent a gust of wind through him. It was as if he was hiding not an apple but some evidence of a crime that must not be seen in public.
His tall figure leaped up from the chair, his movements appearing somewhat awkward due to their swiftness. He subconsciously glanced at me, his pupils clearly reflecting my equally panicked face.
It's over.
When the ward door was pushed open, a cold breeze with the unique smell of disinfectant came in.
Long Yao was standing at the door, his tall figure blocking most of the light.
He did not come in immediately, but leaned against the door frame with his arms folded. There was no expression on his handsome, almost sharp face. Neither his usual irritability nor a trace of a smile could be found.
Eyes as deep as a pool swept across the room, across the quilt covering me, across the suddenly stiff figure on the chair beside the bed, and finally fell on the fresh, intact apple peel on the ground that had been hidden in too hasty a time.
The air was so stagnant that water could be wrung out of it.
My throat tightened and I was about to say something to break the suffocating silence, but Long Yao's gaze was like a precise probe, directly fixed on Atobe.
"You," his voice was low, even calm, but it carried an unquestionable authority, like cold metal hitting the tile floor, "Come out. I have something to tell you."
Atobe's body tensed up for a moment, feeling embarrassed at being caught, and instinctively guilty when facing the "parents", but more of a stubbornness that made him unwilling to back down in front of me.
He gave me a quick look, and the reassuring look in his eyes was clear, as if to say, "Don't worry."
Then, he took a deep breath and gently placed the apple in his hand on the bedside table, trying to be as gentle as possible. He stood up, adjusted his wrinkle-free collar, straightened his back, and walked out.
When the tall figure passed by Long Yao, the invisible air pressure between the two seemed to collide and produce crackling sparks.
The door was closed by Long Yao from the outside, blocking my view.
The wind from the rooftop was like countless icy knives, carrying the damp, heavy haze that is unique to London's winter, cutting through exposed skin without any shielding. Leaden clouds hung heavily over the city, and the outline of the Thames in the distance was blurred in the mist.
Long Yao stood in front of the low wall at the edge of the rooftop with his back to Atobe.
He didn't turn around, but silently stared at the small, cold urban jungle beneath him, where traffic was surging. The wind rustled the hem of his dark grey coat, making his back look even more lonely and gloomy.
Atobe stood a few steps behind him, also silent, his jawline tense, and the cold wind in his face made him squint slightly.
After a long time, Long Yao finally spoke. His voice was a little scattered by the wind, and it had a distant and hoarse sound as if he was immersed in memories.
"I was fifteen that year, and I went skiing in Switzerland with my fifth uncle and fifth aunt." His voice was calm, as if he was recounting a past event that had nothing to do with him. "No one knows why the avalanche happened."
"They were buried in order to push me away."
He paused, his back swaying imperceptibly, as if the heavy snow still weighed on his shoulders. "Xiaojiu was only five years old at the time and didn't understand anything. She asked me why Mom and Dad were always sleeping..."
"I didn't know how to answer her. She just looked at me and started crying..."
"Those tears are so hot, no matter how hard I try to wipe them away, they won't come away."
He turned around slowly, and his eyes, which always burned with anger or impatience, were now like dusty glass, filled with bottomless guilt and pain.
He looked directly at Atobe, his eyes so sharp that they seemed to penetrate his soul: "All the guilt I feel in this life can only be made up to her. Whatever she likes, I will bring it to her."
"She likes to practice martial arts, so I'll find the best materials and ask the best craftsmen to make her the most suitable weapons and the lightest and toughest armor."
His voice rose slightly, with an almost paranoid certainty, "Even if it's the moon in the sky, as long as she likes it, I will risk my life to pick it for her!"
The wind blew up the loose hair on his forehead, revealing his smooth forehead that was full of fatigue.
His tone dropped again, with an indescribable tenderness and heartache: "But...Xiaojiu is such a sensible child."
"She doesn't want anything. She doesn't crave wealth and fame."
"She's like a little bird that grew up in the wild, wanting nothing more than to fly freely. She's incredibly stubborn, but also... incredibly strong."
He paused, his eyes becoming sharp as a knife again, piercing straight at Atobe, "I don't know what method you used to make your uncle speak up for you."
"Atobe Keigo, you have a good family background, a good appearance, and ambition. I see all of this. But—"
His voice suddenly turned cold, and every word was chilled by ice: "You hurt her. Almost... cost her her life."
"So, I don't like you."
Atobe's body shook violently, as if hit by an invisible hammer.
His hands, hanging at his sides, suddenly clenched, his nails digging deep into his palms. He lowered his head, avoiding Long Yao's gaze that seemed to want to torture him to death. His Adam's apple rolled violently, but he couldn't say a word.
The coldness and despair of that night once again flooded over him like a tide.
Looking at Atobe's silent and lowered face, Long Yao's mouth curled up into an extremely bitter, self-deprecating arc, and that smile was uglier than crying.
"Heh..." He laughed briefly, with endless helplessness, "But... my silly sister likes you."
He raised his head and looked at the gray sky, as if talking to himself, or as if declaring an unchangeable fact to Atobe: "She is a reserved person, with things hidden in her heart. But I can see that the way she looks at you is different."
"She really likes you."
He retracted his gaze and looked back at Atobe, his eyes were extremely complicated, with anger, helplessness, scrutiny, and the compromise he had to make.
"so."
"I'll give you a chance."
"A chance for me to see if you are worthy enough to stand by her side."
Atobe suddenly raised his head, and an astonishing light burst out of his eyes, which contained hope of survival and determination to fight to the death.
He met Long Yao's scrutinizing gaze, his voice slightly hoarse with excitement, but extremely clear and firm: "She deserves the best in the world! I..."
"Shut up!" Long Yao interrupted him rudely, his eyes filled with undisguised sarcasm. "Who can't say nice things? Do you think it's enough to just shout slogans and rush forward with brute force? Master Atobe?"
He took a step forward, and the strong sense of oppression made Atobe subconsciously tense his body.
Long Yao stared at him, his every word like an icy spike: "Recently... my bodyguards have been pretending to be sick, haven't they? So you can sneak into the ward 'unnoticed' and see if Xiaojiu... is she feeling pretty happy?"
Atobe's heart sank instantly, and a chill rushed from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.
His pupils suddenly shrank and he looked at Long Yao in disbelief.
The corners of Long Yao's mouth curled up into an icy, all-knowing smile. "Does this feeling sound familiar? Does it feel like... that big piece of meat the Yamamoto family holds in England, suddenly and defenselessly delivered to your lips, leaving you gorging yourself with grease and utter pride?"
boom--
It was as if a thunderclap exploded in Atobe's mind, and all the clues were instantly connected into a cold chain.
The bodyguard's "sudden discomfort", the "timely appearance" on the first and fifteenth days of the lunar month, the incredibly smooth infiltration... and Yamamoto Kenichiro's seemingly disorganized but actually weird "concession" in his British business!
"You...you mean..." Atobe's voice was extremely dry, with a sense of shock as if he had been completely seen through, "Yamamoto...he did it on purpose..."
"It's a deliberate trap!" Long Yao replied decisively, his eyes sharp as a hawk's. "He just wanted to see who's behind this, chasing him with such a big appetite!"
"And what happened? You were so carried away by victory that you just dove right in! You were completely exposed!"
He looked at the sudden realization on Atobe's face, which then turned extremely ugly, and sneered coldly, "Sweetness and joy are the easiest to break down the dam of reason. You think smooth sailing is a good thing? Little do you know that it is just bait thrown by the hunter!"
"You're too naive! You only know how to attack with all your might, but you forgot to leave yourself a way to retreat!"
He turned around and faced the city skyline again. His voice slowed down, but every word was weighty: "Remember this lesson today."
"Whether it's business or protecting the people you care about, just rushing forward is useless."
"You must understand 'advance to attack, retreat to defend.' Only by preserving yourself first and remaining invincible will you be qualified to talk about the long term! Only then will you be qualified... to stand by her side!"
Atobe stared blankly at Long Yao's broad and lonely back.
This man, who seemed irritable and ready to explode when we first met, now looked like a silent and solid mountain in the biting cold wind on the rooftop.
It turns out that his seemingly rough actions, his inhumane obstructions, and even this carefully designed "test" were all wrapped in a bottomless, clumsy but burning protective heart.
An indescribable complex emotion surged in my heart, including fear, shock, and a heavy sense of gratitude and respect.
He took a deep breath of the icy air, feeling the chill go straight into his lungs, and making his confused mind clearer than ever before.
He took a step forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with Long Yao, gazing at the small yet vibrant city beneath his feet. His voice was not loud, but it carried a reborn calmness and absolute confidence:
"Seventh Brother," he called out this time with incredible naturalness, "Every failure is a learning experience. I understand."
He turned his head and looked at Long Yao's tense profile, his eyes burning with a fiery and determined light, "Xiao Yin is the best girl. And I, Atobe Keigo, will definitely be the only one in the world who can match her!"
Long Yao's body stiffened almost imperceptibly.
He suddenly turned his head and glared at Tebe fiercely. His handsome face turned red again in an instant, and the veins on his forehead began to throb again, as if the deep and wise image just now was just an illusion.
"Who the hell is your Seventh Brother?! Who allowed you to call me that?! Get out! I'm annoyed just by the sight of you!" He waved his hands angrily like a lion whose tail had been stepped on, as if trying to drive away some annoying mosquitoes and flies, "Get out of here right now! Don't be an eyesore here!"
Looking at his timid appearance, a faint, yet genuine, smile slowly curled up at the corner of his mouth. He didn't argue, but simply bowed slightly and performed an impeccable salute to Long Yao's exasperated back.
Then he turned around and strode towards the rooftop exit against the biting cold wind.
His back was as straight as a pine tree, his steps were steady and powerful, each step was on solid ground, with a kind of calmness and confidence after being reborn from the ashes.
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