"Are you fucking crazy?" He grabbed Qi Sili's shoulders, his strength so great that he almost crushed his bones. "You dare to drink that medicine? Do you know what happened back then—"
The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she suddenly choked. The image of her father's mistress bleeding from all seven orifices ten years ago flashed before her eyes. At that time, her mother had used this cup of tea to serve the guest.
Qi Sili's pale face was flushed with an abnormal red, but the corners of his mouth still held a smile: "Now... have you tasted it?" He gasped and grabbed Zhao Mingyuan's wrist, "The feeling of being fed poison by your closest relative... with your own hands."
Zhao Mingyuan was trembling all over.
He grabbed his phone and called his mother. As soon as she answered, she heard him roaring hysterically: "Are you satisfied? Do you want me to take a sip too before you're happy?"
There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, then Zhao's mother's calm voice came thru: "Yuan'er, your mother just wants a grandson."
The glass shattered against the wall, sending shards flying. Zhao Mingyuan, his eyes red, dragged the butler into the study. The old-fashioned gramophone was knocked to the ground, and the vinyl record was split in two.
"The antidote." He pinned the old butler against the bookshelf, his hand around his throat. "Don't tell me you don't have it."
The old butler's muddy eyes rolled out tears: "Young master... the madam just... just added some medicine to help the fun..."
Lies.
Zhao Mingyuan was too familiar with the family's dirty tricks. He let go of his hand and suddenly laughed in a low voice, his laughter filled with madness: "Okay, then let's see... who will be the one to help out in the end."
When he returned to the bedroom, Qi Sili was curled up in bed, shivering, and cold sweat soaked the silk sheets. Zhao Mingyuan knelt by the bed, wiping the cold sweat that was constantly seeping out of him with a towel in vain, and suddenly found himself crying. Hot tears fell on Qi Sili's face, mixed with the blood overflowing from the corners of his mouth, and a faint red mark was stained on the snow-white pillowcase.
"...Does it hurt?" Zhao Mingyuan's voice was hoarse and unrecognizable.
Qi Sili's scattered pupils slowly focused, and his blood-stained fingers stroked his face: "Now... you finally... feel the pain too."
Outside the window, thunder rumbled and a torrential rain poured down. Zhao Mingyuan buried his face in Qi Sili's sweaty neck and tasted the mingled flavors of blood and pine-scented ink. Six years ago, on that snowy nite, the 26-year-old Qi Sili had held him, who was vomiting blood, in his arms and said, "Don't be afraid."
Power, money, family glory, all became the most ridiculous jokes at this moment. He held the person in his arms tightly, like holding the last piece of driftwood about to fall off the cliff.
In the second half of the nite, Qi Sili still felt hot. It was not the sticky heat of summer, but a burning sensation that seeped out of his bones, as if someone had lit a fire in his blood vessels. He tore open a corner of the bath towel, and his fingertips touched the abnormally beating pulse at his neck. That glass of water - he should have thot of it earlier, Zhao's mother's methods were never just coercion and inducement.
Yan Yan sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers unconsciously twisting the belt of her nightgown. She watched Qi Sili walk in unsteadily, his usually pale face flushed with an abnormal redness, even the corners of his eyes were stained with a light red, like cinnabar that had been smudged on a meticulous painting.
"Are you... all right?" she asked softly.
Qi Sili did not answer. He walked straight to the window and suddenly pushed it open. The nite wind blew in, dispersing some of the heat, but it could not blow away the boiling desire in the blood. Under the moonlight, he saw fine beads of sweat appearing on his wrist, and the blue blood vessels under his skin were clearly visible.
"Where's Zhao Mingyuan?" His voice was terribly hoarse.
"The butler said... there was an emergency at the company." Yan Yan lowered her head, revealing a section of her fair neck, "He told you to... get some rest."
Get some rest.
Qi Sili suddenly laughed. How ironic, he thot he was doing it for my own good, but he didn't know that it was a betrayal for me, but he still chose to leave at this time. He should have understood long ago - there has never been an indestructible alliance between them, and the other party is their own weakness.
The drug would be more potent when it took effect again. Qi Sili's fingers, which were supporting the windowsill, trembled slightly, and he began to see double. He saw Yan Yan walking over timidly, and the faint jasmine fragrance on the girl's body became a spark that started a prairie fire.
"Don't come over here," he said sternly.
Yan Yan was so frightened that she stood rooted to the spot. Moonlight filtered thru the gauze curtains, casting mottled shadows on her face. She bit her lip, her eyes red, but she stubbornly did not retreat: "But you... are very uncomfortable..."
Qi Sili suddenly grabbed her wrist. The temperature of his palm was frighteningly hot, and Yan Yan couldn't help but shrink back, but she didn't break free. This subtle movement seemed to have triggered some switch, and Qi Sili suddenly pulled her into his arms with force.
"Do you know what's going to happen next?" he asked, his breath hot against Yan Yan's earlobe. "It's not too late to run away now."
Yan Yan closed her eyes, trembling. She could feel Qi Sili's slender fingers caressing the skin on the back of her neck, the thin calluses on his fingertips sending a shiver down her spine. His heart was beating fast and hard, and the heat coming thru his clothes was astonishing.
"I...won't run."
This sentence became the last straw that broke the camel's back. Qi Sili picked her up and threw her on the bed. His movements were so rough that he didn't look like the elegant and restrained traditional Chinese painting teacher he usually was. As the bed curtains swayed, Yan Yan saw the veins popping out on the back of his hand as he tore off his tie, and the dark fire burning in his eyes that were always indifferent.
The moment the pain came like a tide, Yan Yan buried her face in the pillow. The pure cotton fabric absorbed the wetness overflowing from the corners of her eyes, but could not hide her suddenly tightened back.
Qi Sili suddenly stopped moving. He propped himself up, his slender fingers brushed past her sweaty temples, and finally stopped at her trembling lips.
A wisp of smoke drifted in from the balcony. The nite wind swirled half a piece of ash onto the windowsill, looking just like the first piece of snow in winter that withered before it could bloom.
In the shadows, Zhao Mingyuan leaned against the railing, the cigaret in his fingers already burned to a gray-white ash. He listened to the faint sounds coming from inside the glass window, and suddenly pressed the cigaret butt out on the marble countertop. At the moment the sparks flew, the wedding ring on his ring finger reflected a cold light.