As Shi Meng stepped out of the Shi family's gate, he heard Shi Huaiyi and Li Bihan arguing inside the house.
"I've never seen you spoil your child like this before, giving him whatever he wants."
"Mengmeng has suffered too much..."
"He suffers, but I don't? Does my Mumu deserve to have everything taken away from her by him?"
"What do you mean by 'stolen'? Mengmeng already had a share of these."
"I think you should bring that woman over, and I'll move out to make room for your family of three."
"Why are we bringing up that woman again? I'm so annoyed with her, I got rid of her a long time ago, and she won't bother us anymore."
"Aren't you bothered by her son?"
“Mengmeng is also your son…”
"I only have one son, Mumu!"
...
Li Bihan presents an image of elegance and gentleness to the public. Even towards Shi Meng, this "bastard," she is very tolerant, at most ignoring him as if he were invisible. She can be described as quite cultured.
This shows how angry she was, as she lost her temper in front of outsiders without any regard for her image.
As the car drove away from the Shi family mansion, Jiang Rong turned her head to look back, seemingly worried about the Shi couple's condition.
As they got further away, the silence inside the car became even more unsettling. Fu Qiming, who was also in the back seat, kept a long face and didn't say a word. Jiang Rong hesitated for a long time before saying to Shi Meng, who was sitting in the passenger seat, "If you want to stay here, just tell Xuan Liao. There's no need to trouble your father. Anyway, there are spare rooms at home."
Her tone was barely polite, but Shi Meng seemed oblivious to the unwelcome undertones, saying to herself, "No need for an empty room, Fu Xuanliao and I will share one."
Jiang Rong noticed that Fu Xuanliao, who was driving, tightened his grip on the steering wheel, and the veins on the back of his hands stood out.
Fearing something might happen, Jiang Rong reluctantly fell silent and turned to look at the hazy night outside the window.
However, this worry was unnecessary, because Fu Xuanliao's subsequent reaction was calmer than anyone had imagined. Like a spring that had been stretched to its limit, it lost its elasticity after being released and no longer reacted no matter how it was touched.
After parking the car, he even went around to the back of the car to help Shi Meng carry his luggage, and took the elevator all the way up to his own room.
The feeling of being furious as if I had just killed someone was just an illusion.
"Maybe it's just a misperception," Shi Meng thought optimistically. In any case, the goal was achieved, and Fu Xuanliao accepted it.
If you don't want to come to me, I'll come to you. You won't be able to escape my grasp no matter what.
Shi Meng quickly and efficiently hung the clothes she had brought into the dressing room, one by one.
Just then, Fu Xuanliao came in after taking a shower, put his phone on the bedside table, turned around and saw that the half of the wardrobe that was empty had been filled, and smiled for some reason.
The laugh was devoid of warmth, even carrying a hint of mockery. Shi Meng pretended not to hear it and continued squatting on the ground to organize the things in her suitcase.
Suddenly, Fu Xuanliao's voice reached her ears: "Where's your cat?"
"At home," Shi Meng said. "I'll send it back to my mom in a couple of days."
"What about the painting?" Fu Xuanliao asked again.
When the painting is mentioned, Shi Meng always becomes wary.
He stopped what he was doing and looked up at Fu Xuanliao.
Having just finished showering, Fu Xuanliao was only wearing a bathrobe, which was untied and loosely revealed his muscular but not exaggerated chest and the increasingly indistinct outline of his abdominal muscles as he walked down.
Shi Meng had been drawing since elementary school and had seen many strong and powerful bodies, but only this one fascinated him.
Everything that belonged to Fu Xuanliao was enough to make Shi Meng deeply infatuated.
The thought of seeing him often in the future, and being able to hold this body in her arms every night, stirred a secret and intense excitement within her, the pleasure even overwhelming the slight unease.
"I've hidden it in a safe place." Shi Meng was very confident about this, raising his chin slightly and saying with certainty, "You won't find it."
The two still made love that night, with Fu Xuanliao suppressing his desires unilaterally, aiming to vent his frustrations.
Shi Meng then realized that his previous success in sneak attacks was due to the other party turning a blind eye, commonly known as letting him off the hook.
There were so many heartwarming moments before.
Ke Shimeng would not regret his choice, after all, if he let go, he would never have it again, and he did not want to die again.
He kept telling himself that love comes in many forms, and pain is one of them.
It's like lying on a small boat, your body rising and falling with the waves, accompanied by dizziness and various discomfort symptoms.
Shi Meng hugged Fu Xuanliao tightly, as if he had returned to the boy's broad back. They walked in the lonely night, the road ahead was shaky, but their hearts were at peace. Even if there were mountains of knives and seas of fire ahead, or hell itself, he was not afraid.
As the climax approached, Fu Xuanliao leaned close to Shi Meng's ear and asked in a hoarse voice, "Then guess if I can find any other weaknesses in you?"
His eyes dimmed, but Shi Meng was still smiling.
"fool."
He laughed at Fu Xuanliao, but he was actually cursing himself.
My weakness is you, so why bother looking for it?
Afterwards, Shi Meng casually took out his small sketchbook, then pulled a pen from his bedside table and handed it to Fu Xuanliao.
The latter leaned lazily against the headboard, glanced at the bed, and asked, "What are you doing?"
Taking advantage of this rare moment of calm after a period of relaxation, Shi Meng said, "Draw mushrooms."
"...What's wrong with you now?"
"The mushrooms you drew at the resort last time."
Reminded by him, Fu Xuanliao remembered and scoffed, "You really think you're a mushroom?"
Shi Meng didn't answer, but just grabbed his arm and insisted that he draw.
Feeling sleepy, Fu Xuanliao reluctantly took the notebook and pen, and with a few quick scribbles, sketched a few lines.
"Return it," Shi Meng looked down at it for a while, and then, as if a plant that had been parched for a long time had finally absorbed nutrients, her voice rose: "Is this me?"
Fu Xuanliao had already pulled the blanket over his head and gave a perfunctory "hmm".
Then he fell asleep, and Shi Meng leaned over and kissed him, but he was completely unaware.
After the Spring Festival, universities across the country started their new semester one after another, and the art academy that Shi Huai had arranged for Shi Meng also sent an admission notice before the Lantern Festival.
On the day of the report, Shi Meng was led by Jiang Xue to complete the formalities at the school.
Watching the students chatting and laughing as they passed by, Shi Meng gripped his backpack strap tightly and stood timidly against the wall. Jiang Xue took the materials and turned around. Seeing him like this, she felt sad and speechless: "You chose this yourself. Let's go and see your advisor."
The mentor was a sprightly old man in his fifties named Ma, a member of the China Artists Association. Jiang Xue had long heard of his reputation, and upon meeting him, she flattered Mr. Ma profusely.
Fortunately, the tutor was kind and not only did not mind Shi Meng's silence, but also praised Shi Meng for his good drawing.
“I saw your work at the exhibition. The brushstrokes are unique, the composition is exquisite, and it has a very personal style. I will have to learn more from you in the future.”
Jiang Xue, acting as the spokesperson, humbly said "Not at all" and "How dare I?" Then she pressed Shi Meng's head down and made him bow, urging him to say "Hello, teacher" repeatedly.
As Jiang Xue left the school with the art book she had borrowed from Teacher Ma, she marveled at how fortunate she had been to meet such a benefactor. At the same time, she couldn't wait to start planning Shi Meng's future path: to join the Artists Association within two years and hold a solo exhibition within three years. She laid out the plan clearly.
Shi Meng, however, was not in a good mood. As soon as he got in the car, he urged Jiang Xue to drive faster because he wanted to go back.
"What's the rush? It's not like that's your own home." Jiang Xue had long been critical of Shi Meng moving to Fu Xuanliao's house. "Besides, that guy surnamed Fu doesn't come back every day."
“He goes home whenever he’s not busy with work,” Shi Meng said.
Jiang Xue snorted: "I heard Gao Lecheng say that he's been going to Heting a lot lately?"
Shi Meng thought for a moment: "Maybe he wants to drink."
Before heading back, Shi Meng took a detour to the supermarket and bought a few bottles of wine.
He didn't know anything about alcohol, so he chose to buy the most expensive ones, taking a bottle of each type and alcohol content. When he carried them back, he startled Jiang Rong, who came to open the door.
"You bought so much wine?" She looked at the crammed refrigerator with some difficulty. "Where are we going to put it?"
Shi Meng brought all the wine into the room, filled the table, took a picture, and sent it to Fu Xuanliao.
Fu Xuanliao did not reply until evening.
He didn't go home either.
Lying in bed that night, Shi Meng began to regret not bringing that sweater. Although there were many of Fu Xuanliao's clothes here, and his scent lingered on the pillow, Shi Meng still loved that sweater. It was soft, wrinkled easily when hugged, and every time she saw the marks she had left on it, she felt a strange sense of satisfaction.
I wonder if the scars I left on Fu Xuanliao during our last time we made love have faded or disappeared.
Would that waiter surnamed Xu at Heting like him so much that he would climb into his bed and try every means to leave marks on him?
After all, Fu Xuanliao would lose at least 70% of his fighting ability when drunk, and if he were drugged... a place like Heting might actually have that kind of drug.
Shi Meng then went to Heting, as he had never liked to sit idly by and wait for death.
The first time you come to Heting, you can go inside and sit down. The next few times, you can only wait downstairs. This time it's even worse; they won't even let you stand in the open space downstairs. Shi Meng was forced to the sidewalk, and several waiters bowed and scraped, calling him "Young Master Shi" while watching him and preventing him from getting near the entrance.
"We can't do anything about the orders from above," one of the waiters said with difficulty. "Young Master Shi, please have mercy on us. It's so cold outside. Let me call a car to take you home."
The Spring Festival is over, and the weather is no longer cold; Shi Meng knew this was just an excuse.
He also knew that Fu Xuanliao was retaliating against him. He tried every means to keep him, and Fu Xuanliao did everything he could to escape; it had been like this from the very beginning.
Fortunately, Fu Xuanliao was a normal person with many weaknesses that could be exploited. Besides the hidden painting, Shi Meng had other methods.
On a night when the last vestiges of chill lingered in early spring, he stood under the shower, turned the temperature control knob to cold water, and turned on the switch without hesitation.
The bone-chilling cold is a warning sign of impaired bodily functions, followed by wave after wave of fever that leaves one feeling delirious and as if floating on clouds.
In the early morning, Shi Meng woke up again in a daze, vaguely seeing a figure pacing back and forth by the bedside and hearing anxious voices talking on the phone.
"Xuanliao, please come back quickly! He refuses to go to the hospital, won't take his medicine, and won't drink water... I'm afraid if this continues, he'll... he'll..."
Older people, with reverence for life, will always avoid words that are considered unlucky.
But Shi Meng didn't believe in ghosts or gods. His lips moved silently as he continued, "If this continues, I'll die."
Death itself is not scary; what's truly terrifying is when no one cares whether someone is dead or alive.
Fortunately, he made the right bet. After silently counting to one hundred twenty times, he opened his eyes and Fu Xuanliao's face gradually became clear in front of him, accompanied by rapid breathing.
Before she could even smile at him, Shi Meng was pulled off the bed by the wrist.
An unusual heat emanated from his palm, and Fu Xuanliao's face turned frighteningly pale: "Let's go to the hospital."
Shi Meng clung tightly to the door frame, squatting down and resisting his strength with her body weight, refusing to go with him.
They practically dragged him out of the room. Jiang Rong was frightened and stepped forward to persuade him, "You can't do this, he's still sick."
Fu Xuanliao, unable to bear it any longer, turned around and roared, "Do you want to die here?"
As his suspicions were confirmed, Shi Meng, who was sitting on the ground, laughed: "You don't want me to die... I knew it, you can't bear to see me die."
It turns out that when he was holding "Flame" and swaying precariously on the windowsill, the fear in Fu Xuanliao's eyes also belonged to him.
Shi Meng was resurrected the moment Fu Xuanliao rushed back in a fit of rage.
He didn't want to go to the hospital, so he grabbed the fever reducer that Jiang Rong had prepared by the bedside, threw it into his mouth, swallowed it dry, and his Adam's apple bobbed.
His face was as pale as paper, but his body was burning hot. He looked at Fu Xuanliao with intense gaze, as if he were looking at a hard-won trophy.
After all that commotion, Fu Xuanliao didn't even have the energy to call him a madman. This kind of tactic, which hurts the enemy eight hundred while also injuring oneself a thousand, could probably only be done by Shi Meng, a madman among madmen.
In the evening, when the heat subsided a bit, Shi Meng went to the kitchen to get a bottle opener and two glasses, and poured the wine that had been sitting on the table for a while for Fu Xuanliao to drink.
“We have wine at home,” he said. “Don’t go to Heting anymore.”
Fu Xuanliao asked him, "Was there something drugged in this wine?"
Shi Meng was stunned, then gave a short laugh: "You're back now, why bother with the drug?"
Fu Xuanliao began to think that Shi Meng had really gone mad.
He poured himself a full glass of wine, raised it to Fu Xuanliao from afar, and said in a very soft voice, "Thank you for saving me."
Fu Xuanliao didn't know which time he was referring to, and scoffed, "So, this is how you repay a debt of gratitude?"
A little anxious at being questioned, Shi Meng put down his wine glass, jumped off the chair, and crawled onto the bed on his knees. While tugging at Fu Xuanliao's clothes, he whispered in Fu Xuanliao's ear, "I heard it's very hot inside when you have a fever. Want to try it?"
The scalding heat burned every cell in his body, and Fu Xuanliao felt like he was going crazy.
Later that night, while Shi Meng was asleep, Fu Xuanliao got up and went to the balcony to get some fresh air. Just then, his phone vibrated, so he answered it.
Hearing the whistling wind, Shi Sihui on the other side asked, "Are you outside?"
"No, I'm at home." Fu Xuanliao was agitated. "Speak if you have something to say."
"It's nothing much, just letting you know that we're ready. The group's veterans will all be on our side and help us acquire that 10% share based on our original investment."
"Um."
"What about you? Have you made a decision yet?"
Fu Xuanliao turned around and looked at Shi Meng on the bed in the room. He was sleeping soundly and had no idea what kind of betrayal and abandonment he was about to face.
However, Fu Xuanliao felt that he should be happy and joyful that such a heartless, cold-blooded, and vicious person could take away his precious things and repay him in kind.
Once he has nothing left, I won't have to be controlled by him anymore.
Thinking this, Fu Xuanliao ignored the few scattered thoughts that could be categorized as reluctance, turned around, and said into the phone, "It's decided, I'll help you."
Suddenly a breeze blew in through the half-open window, gently ruffling the hair on her forehead. Shi Meng, fast asleep, was completely unaware, only hugging the blanket tighter.
In his dream, he could drink the spring water he needed to survive and touch the sun that was right next to him without having to climb high mountains or cross dangerous peaks, or hurt others or himself.
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