Chapter 51 My waist and legs went weak.
These days have been so comfortable. He eats and sleeps, sleeps and eats. Occasionally, Song Mingli will carry him to the yard to bask in the sun.
The temperature looks like it's rising in early spring, but it's still a bit chilly outside.
The cool midday sun fell on the flowers, casting dappled golden light that looked like a veil from afar, putting people in a good mood.
After spending some time there, he could roughly sense that what Song Mingli called a villa was actually comparable in size to an estate, with its own separate areas, gardens, lakes, and a sizable woodland. Apart from the chirping of birds, he rarely heard any other human voices or signs of human activity.
Most of the time, he would sit in his wheelchair, a small cashmere blanket covering his legs, holding a fluffy doll, dozing off by the flower bed in the afternoon light.
Not far away
In the study on the second floor, Song Mingli sat at his desk, his face stern.
"Sir," the man dressed in black, who looked like an assistant, bowed respectfully, reporting on the matters of the past few days, "we've gotten almost everything we could ask, including the specific components and the various lines involved..."
The study is brightly lit with excellent natural light. The branches of trees outside cast long shadows on the floor. If you pay close attention, you'll notice that this is because there is a huge floor-to-ceiling window that almost covers an entire wall on the side closest to the garden.
From here, you can easily see every flowerbed and tree in the garden, as well as the people sitting by the flowerbeds.
The man in black reported the details one by one, and Song Mingli gave instructions methodically. His brows were cold and intimidating, and he carried a faint, almost imperceptible scent of blood, which he had inevitably picked up in the interrogation room.
As his subordinate took notes, he couldn't help but shiver.
In just seven years outside the region, he rose to the very top of the pyramid. His ruthless methods and methods were renowned far and wide. His mere name was enough to strike fear into people's hearts. Even though he had been trying to restrain himself these days, the ferocity he inadvertently revealed was still terrifying enough.
If Ying Shixue were to see this, she would probably be stunned for a moment, wondering when her brother had become so fierce.
Although they were talking, his gaze never left the person in the garden outside the window for even a moment.
The man standing hesitated for a moment, then said in a low voice, "These past few days, the people over there have been searching for the young master very diligently."
SK could cover it up, but that day he genuinely barged in and snatched people. Right now, they're probably wondering which force could be so decisive and efficient, leaving no trace, and conducting a massive covert search.
A flash of coldness and sarcasm crossed Song Mingli's eyes, but it disappeared in an instant: "Have you deployed people all around the manor?"
"Yes, people are assigned to work in shifts day and night around the four directions and eight corners of the manor, the roads and paths leading up the mountain, the lakes and forests."
Song Mingli gave a light "hmm," and said, "Double it again."
The assistant was surprised for a moment, then quickly realized what was happening and lowered his head: "Yes."
It was truly like an iron barrel, with the dragon coiling around and holding the treasure between its teeth, protecting it so tightly that it blocked all prying and coveting eyes from outsiders, and at the same time, it also prevented the treasure from escaping in any way.
The desk and chairs wobbled as Song Mingli walked out of the study.
Ying Shixue knew how to find a spot, sheltered in the shade of a tree, clutching a blanket, like a kitten lazily playing with a ball of yarn after a good meal.
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the branches, illuminating his closed eyelids and making the tips of his eyelashes look like scattered gold dust.
Song Mingli approached slowly. Ying Shixue was fast asleep, her brows relaxed, her breathing even, and a gentle curve to her lips, as if she were immersed in a very peaceful dream. Her hair had grown a bit long these days, falling onto her snow-white cheeks, as black and soft as precious silk.
As he walked to the recliner, Ying Shixue finally woke up a little. Seeing him, she smiled groggily and stretched out her slender white arm from under the small cashmere blanket—
I want a hug.
Song Mingli tucked his arms back into the blanket, rolling them up tightly to keep out the wind, then supported his back and the backs of his knees, pulling him into his arms.
The recliner creaked slightly as Ying Shixue pressed her cheek against his firm, muscular chest: "My wheelchair..."
"I'll have someone bring it up to you in a bit."
That's what they say, but in reality, Ying Shixue has seen very little snow these days, or rather, he has almost never seen anyone other than Song Mingli.
Song Mingli always brought him his meals and medicine, and took care of everything from bathing and drying his hair to wiping his body. They spent 23 out of 24 hours a day together.
Often, while Song Mingli was handling peace talks in his study during the day, Song Mingli would sit on the sofa next to him reading, playing on his tablet, or doing crafts. Most of the time, he would be drowsy, and several times the last time he opened his eyes was at noon, and the next time the sun had already set.
During dinner, he asked the other person in surprise if everything was settled, as he knew that the documents on the desk in the study were always piled up like a mountain.
Song Mingli would always smile and kiss him, or pinch his face, which finally looked a little healthier: "It's all taken care of."
Then, with a mischievous grin, he added, "While a little pig was fast asleep."
Ying Shixue, feeling embarrassed and annoyed, left a shallow tooth mark on the web of his left hand, which he had extended to feed her.
Song Mingli laughed as he put down his chopsticks and lifted him from the chair onto his lap: "The kitten has learned to bite."
She probed two fingers into his mouth in an ambiguous manner, wanting to touch the tip of his teeth: "Which tooth did you bite with just now, hmm?"
Then, inexplicably, he was pinned to the dining table and kissed until his waist and legs went weak.
Even on rare occasions when Song Mingli needed to handle a matter alone, he would slip a small, sophisticated pager into Song Mingli's hand. With just a press of a button, Song Mingli would immediately receive the message and rush over.
The only thing that bothers him is that his legs have been making it difficult for him to walk lately. Wherever he goes, he either has to be in a wheelchair or be carried. And the other person often deliberately leaves the wheelchair somewhere else, just like today, so that he has to come to him and ask to be carried whenever he wants to go somewhere else.
Turning into the corridor and walking up the long spiral staircase to the bedroom, Song Mingli placed him on the bed and tucked the stray hairs from his forehead behind his ear: "Your hair is getting a bit long."
Ying Shixue grunted and touched the back of her hair.
The ends of my hair have indeed grown a little. In a few more days, I estimate I can tie it into a small braid.
"Should I cut it off?" he asked.
Song Mingli looked at it for a while and said, "No need."
He added, "It's beautiful."
Ying Shixue nudged him, but didn't say anything.
Song Mingli had a faint smile on his face: "Do you want to continue sleeping? There's still some time before dinner."
Ying Shixue shook her head: "I'm not going to sleep, I want to read for a while."
“Okay.” Song Mingli agreed, handed him the book he hadn’t finished reading last time, and then took his computer and sat down on the chair by the bed to work.
Time flies by so quickly that it's easy to forget everything that's happening in the outside world.
The blood and energy he had lost over the years were gradually restored, and his legs were slowly regaining sensation.
His physical indicators are tested at fixed intervals, and his daily diet is adjusted and carefully selected based on his current physical condition. When cooking, we try to preserve the deliciousness while retaining the maximum amount of nutrients, and we control the temperature when serving the food. There is also the bowl of medicine after meals.
But most of the time he was still in a deep sleep, as if he had never been so tired and sleepy in more than 20 years, even though the benefits of getting more sleep were obvious.
One day, Ying Shixue looked at the dark brown medicine on the tray and suddenly seemed to realize something, saying:
"You actually put calming herbs in here, didn't you?"
Song Mingli was rinsing the spoon with boiling water at the time, and the sound of the water hitting the porcelain was crisp and pleasant.
Only after scalding all the spoons and utensils until they were spotless did he put down the utensils and look at him with the same tenderness.
Ying Shixue's heart sank.
He did not deny it.
The chain on his left wrist felt incredibly heavy, pressing down on his wrist bones as if they were about to break.
This is something he has been deliberately ignoring and refusing to think about these past few days.
He had never seen any of the maintenance staff, the cooks, cleaners, or gardeners in this huge manor. Even if he caught a glimpse of one, they would quickly leave his area within seconds.
It's impossible to say that no one gave the order to do this.
His wheelchair, though rarely at his side due to his leg disability, is chained up again whenever he returns indoors, and there are video cameras recording inside and outside the living room and dining room.
The air grew thicker, and he silently stared at Song Mingli, without questioning why he had done this.
Because they all know the reason.
The medicine sat on the table, emitting a slightly bitter smell.
Song Mingli reached out and lingered on her shoulder, neck, and cheek, his eyes filled with a deep, suppressed madness and obsession.
The skin beneath his palms was warm and delicate, and his bones were thin and slender. It was impossible to tell how he had stood silently and resolutely before a mocking fate all these years, supporting a perilous and uncertain future.
During his seven years abroad, he repeatedly recalled and pondered the origins of his memories, only to discover that everything had been traceable and that the seeds of cause and effect had been sown many years ago.
Why would Song Qi suddenly bring back a child with whom he has no relation? Why is his mother, Ming Wei, a taboo subject that no one can mention? Why is Song Qi so unwilling to see him and Ying Shixue get close? And why does Ying Shixue repeatedly reject him and stubbornly insist on going to Liancheng?
He carried the world's misunderstanding that he was willing to slander his father and brothers in pursuit of power. Even he himself had wondered how Ying Shixue could have concealed such a large scheme from him with his already scarred body, and what his feelings were when he said "Let him go" seven years ago.
Did he ever complain about the unfairness of fate, or about the incompetence of his lover?
The large hand slowly moved upwards, finally stopping at the corner of his eye, looking into those ink-black pupils that looked as if they had been washed clean.
Clear and sharp, forever firm and cold, as if all those years of blood, tears, separations and reunions had not left a trace on him.
You clearly need me so much. Pain and grief are twisting my soul. Song Mingli controls his breathing so as not to show anything unusual.
You clearly...love me so much.
In foreign lands and distant places outside his domain, he climbed back to the top step by step amidst the dangers of life and death. Countless times in the dead of night, he would look up and see a crescent moon outside his window.
“For the past thirty years,” he said slowly and paused, “my biggest regret is letting you go to Liancheng alone.”
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