Chapter 9 "Not because of guilt, but because it hurts here"
The next few days passed as if on slow motion, or as if he were trapped in a transparent bubble, completely isolated from the world. Zhang Qiling completely entered a "territory-defending" mode, turning Hei Xiazi's once somewhat lively house into an impenetrable fortress.
Hei Xiazi felt like an overprotected rare animal. If he wanted something spicy, Zhang Qiling would stare at the plate of chili oil for ages before silently pushing over a bowl of plain noodles. If he wanted a drink, the moment he touched the bottle, Zhang Qiling's eyes would pierce his hand. Even if he just wanted to go out for a stroll and get some fresh air, Zhang Qiling would be right behind him, staying within three steps, his eyes so wary that it looked like a zombie might jump out from some nook or cranny at any moment.
What made Hei Xiazi's scalp tingle the most was Zhang Qiling's concern for his old wounds.
That night, after taking a shower, Hei Xiazi came out of the bathroom shirtless and drying his hair, only to see Zhang Qiling already waiting there with ointment. It wasn't You Tan Lan, but another kind of dark, pungent medicinal mud.
"What is this thing again?" Black Bear wrinkled his nose and dodged away.
"Remove blood stasis and unblock the meridians," Zhang Qi said succinctly, gesturing for him to lie down on the bed.
Black Bear wanted to refuse, but faced with Zhang Qiling's "if you don't cooperate, I'll do it myself" attitude, he had no choice but to reluctantly lie down, muttering under his breath, "...He really thinks he's a barefoot doctor..."
The slightly cool ointment was applied, and Zhang Qiling's palms, burning hot, began to vigorously massage the crisscrossing, grotesque old scars on his back. The force was by no means light; it carried an undeniable strength, as if trying to forcefully knead and dissolve the years of accumulated stagnation and coldness.
"Ouch... Be gentle!" Black Bear gasped in pain, his muscles tensing involuntarily.
Zhang Qiling paused, lightening his pressure slightly, but his movements became even more meticulous, tracing the uneven scars inch by inch from his back to his waist. His fingertips seemed to carry an electric current, first causing a sharp, tingling sensation, then a wave of unbearable numbness.
Black Bear buried his face in the pillow and groaned softly. This feeling was so damn strange. It really hurt, but those hands brought more than just pain. There was also a feeling of being carefully treated and cherished. It made him feel like he was being tickled by feathers, an intense itch with nowhere to scratch it.
He could feel Zhang Qiling's breath on the back of his neck, hot and long. The room was quiet, with only the sounds of ointment being applied and hands rubbing against skin, and their breathing gradually synchronizing and becoming somewhat heavy.
When Zhang Qiling's hand touched a deep arrow scar on his left waist, Hei Xiazi shuddered violently and almost reflexively curled up. That scar was from an extremely dangerous experience many years ago that nearly cost him his life.
Zhang Qiling's hand stopped.
“Here,” his voice was low and hoarse, carrying a suppressed emotion, “it’s very deep.”
Hei Xiazi mumbled a vague "hmm" under his pillow. He didn't want to recall that incident.
But Zhang Qiling's fingers began to trace the outline of the scar very lightly, again and again, as if confirming it, or as if repenting.
“Back then…” Zhang Qiling’s voice was even lower, almost close to his ear, “I couldn’t make it in time.”
Hei Xiazi froze. He had never told anyone about this in detail, so how did Zhang Qiling know? Did that damned guy "see" it again?
A nameless rage surged within him. He'd had enough of being completely seen through, of having no privacy whatsoever! He abruptly sat up, swatting away Zhang Qiling's hand, his chest heaving, his eyes gleaming with fury:
"Zhang Qiling! Are you fucking done yet?! Yes! I'm covered in wounds! I've escaped death countless times! But what the hell does that have to do with you?! Why are you here pretending to feel sorry for me now? Huh?!"
He practically roared it out, his voice echoing in the small room, making his own ears ring.
Zhang Qiling was stunned by his sudden outburst, frozen in place with his outstretched hand still in the position. He looked at Hei Xiazi's eyes, which were reddened with excitement, and at the undisguised anger and... a hint of hurt in his eyes. In those eyes that were always as calm as an ancient well, a huge panic and pain surged up instantly.
"No..." He opened his mouth, wanting to explain, but found his throat tighten, his voice breaking into a hoarse whisper, "I'm not..."
"What are you?!" Black Bear demanded, his eyes bloodshot. "Don't you feel indebted? Don't you feel guilty because I died in your damned 'seeing,' and now you're coming to make amends?! Zhang Qiling, let me tell you, you don't need that! I'm perfectly fine! I didn't need you before, and I certainly don't need you now!"
These words were like knives thrown out. Hei Xiazi saw Zhang Qiling's face turn deathly pale instantly, even his lips lost all color. As if struck in a vital spot, he staggered back half a step, his eyes so shattered that they seemed about to burst open at any moment.
Black Bear's heart skipped a beat; he regretted speaking so harshly. But he was in the heat of the moment, and that regret was quickly overwhelmed by a surging rage. He'd had enough of this preordained, "predicted" fate!
The two faced each other, the air frozen as ice.
After a long silence, Zhang Qiling finally spoke with great difficulty, his voice so soft it seemed as if it might break at any moment: "...It's not about making amends."
He raised his eyes and looked at Black Bear. His eyes were filled with naked, undisguised despair and love, so intense that it startled Black Bear.
“It’s because…” Every word he uttered seemed to have been pulled from blood, carrying a scalding temperature and pain, “…it hurts here.”
He poked his left chest, specifically the area around his heart, hard with his finger.
“Every time I see your wounds,” his voice trembled, his eyes were frighteningly red, but he stubbornly refused to let the tears condense and fall, “it feels like I’ve been cut with a knife here.”
“I can’t take it…” He shook his head, as if enduring immense pain, “Blind man… I can’t take it…”
He could no longer hold on, took a step forward, and suddenly pulled Hei Xiazi into a tight embrace. This embrace was no longer a cautious test, but rather carried the despair and force of a dying man, as if he wanted to crush him, embed him into his own bones, and never be separated again.
"It's not because of any debt..." He buried his face in the crook of Black Bear's neck, his hot breath scalding, his voice muffled and choked with sobs, "It's because... you're mine..."
The last few words dissipated between their tightly pressed skin, blurry yet like a thunderclap, exploding in Hei Xiazi's mind.
He stood stiffly in Zhang Qiling's arms, the burning heat and rapid heartbeat seeping through his thin clothes, making his very soul tremble. All that anger, all that grievance, all that resentment, suddenly seemed so insignificant in the face of this almost broken embrace and that unfinished confession.
He raised his hand, hesitated for a moment, and finally slowly and gently hugged the trembling man back.
"Alright..." he heard his own voice say, a hint of helpless hoarseness in it, "I know... stop sounding like you're mourning a funeral..."
Zhang Qiling's body stiffened for a moment, then he hugged him even tighter, as if he had grasped the only straw to save him.
The room fell silent again, with only the sound of their intertwined, gradually calming breaths and their frantic heartbeats remaining.
Looking out at the deep night, Hei Xiazi felt a knot in his heart that had been tugged at for so long suddenly loosen.
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