Chapter 36#

He was blocked.#

Chen Ruiwen pushed up the glasses on the bridge of his nose, the lenses reflecting a faint light. He calmly looked at the man in front of him who had instantly lost his composure, a smile still hanging on the corner of his lips: “It seems so.”

Qi Xu, was it really him? What was going on with him? What could be the reason?

Countless questions churned in Si Jingheng’s mind, making his already muddled brain even more chaotic. The dizziness hit him once again, and Chen Ruiwen’s figure in front of him became slightly blurred. He instinctively closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, most of the fierceness in his eyes had faded, leaving only panic.

“Dr. Chen,” his voice lowered a bit, “tell me, what exactly is his situation? Why did he come here?”

Chen Ruiwen put down the pen in his hand, clasped his hands on the table, and gazed at him calmly: “Mr. Si, I am a psychiatrist. I cannot casually disclose a patient’s privacy.”

“I’ll pay twenty times the price,” Si Jingheng blurted out without a second thought. It was as if any problem that could be solved with money was not a problem at all. Sitting in a high position with wealth in his hands, he had long been accustomed to achieving his goals in this manner.

But Chen Ruiwen shook his head, his smile remaining gentle: “Mr. Si, money isn’t everything. I can understand your current feelings, but rules are rules.” He paused, then changed his tone, “However, if you are willing to cooperate with me for a brief session to let me understand your situation, perhaps I might ‘remember’ some details.”

Si Jingheng’s brow furrowed even deeper. He had always detested the feeling of being manipulated, and disliked baring his inner thoughts to a stranger even more.

But at the thought of Qi Xu’s appearance, of the doctor describing him as looking “half-dead,” and of how he might have been tortured by pain for all these years, the slight resistance in his heart crumbled instantly, like a dam breached by a flood.

It had been a long time since he last tried to understand Qi Xu properly. When did it start? He couldn’t remember clearly, but a voice in his heart kept telling him: There are many things you don’t know.

Si Jingheng remained silent for a full half-minute before suppressing his surging emotions and slowly sitting back down on the sofa.

“What do you want to know?”

A knowing smile flashed in Chen Ruiwen’s eyes. He picked up his pen and tapped it gently on his notebook: “Let’s start with your insomnia. When did it begin? When you can’t sleep, what goes through your mind involuntarily?”

Si Jingheng’s gaze drifted out the window, where the green plants grew lushly, and sunlight filtered through the gaps between the leaves, casting dappled shadows. His thoughts, however, seemed to be pulled back to a certain period of time—seemingly very close, yet also very far away.

So close that Qi Xu seemed to be right beside him, yet so far that he couldn’t touch him even if he reached out.

“Probably… a few months,” his voice was somewhat hollow. “My mind is very chaotic, thinking of everything.” He paused and added, “I always feel like something is missing from my side.”

“What is missing?” Chen Ruiwen pressed.

Si Jingheng opened his mouth but found himself unable to speak. What was missing?

“I don’t know,” he could only answer in the end, his tone carrying an unprecedented bewilderment.

Chen Ruiwen didn’t press further. He simply nodded, stood up to walk over to him, briefly checked his pulse and eyes, and asked a few questions about his diet and daily routine.

He remembered the first time he met Qi Xu. The little boy had shown a sweet smile, hiding behind his mother and staring at him constantly. It wasn’t until the adults of both families were about to say goodbye that he skipped out, his small palms clutching colorful candies, which he stuffed into his hand.

Back then, Qi Xu’s voice was soft, like a glutinous rice ball: “Mom said to give candies to friends you like. This is for you. Can we be friends?”

From then on, Qi Xu would show up at his house every few days, always bringing all kinds of sweets. When Si Jingheng said he didn’t like them, Qi Xu would switch up the snacks.

Sometimes, taking advantage of being two years older, he would forcefully stuff them into his mouth. Later on, he would occasionally chew on a few pieces to pass the time. It was just that for the same things, the ones Qi Xu stuffed into his mouth always seemed to taste a bit better.

Actually, he didn’t like making friends, because since childhood he understood a truth: friends are not necessarily sincere. They might do it for money, for power, for profit, or for fame.

They came for the sake of profit and Yujia VIP, gathering for profit and dispersing when it was gone.

But what was Qi Xu doing it for?

He often wondered too, was Qi Xu after something he possessed, or was he after him as a person?

He couldn’t figure it out. The Qi family didn’t lack money or power. Was it for his face? Staring at the same face for so many years, wouldn’t Qi Xu get tired of it? For him… had he ever done anything that made him worthy of Qi Xu’s affection?

For so long, he had only called Qi Xu foolish and had never praised him properly. After growing up, he had also constantly given Qi Xu the cold shoulder, and there were never any moments of warmth when they did it.

Yet Qi Xu still stubbornly remembered his every preference, every habit, and every “anniversary,” trying every possible way to ask if he could spend time with him. Even if he only had rough sex with him, and no matter how physically uncomfortable Qi Xu felt, he would still insist on leaning toward him.

Qi Xu had never said he was unhappy, nor had he ever made any demands. He always put him first, and would say, “I’m fine with whatever. Can you stay tonight?”

“Jingheng, can you wish me a happy birthday?”

He didn’t understand.

What on earth did Qi Xu like about him?

“Alright, Mr. Si, I will prescribe you some sleep aids. The side effects are relatively minor. Just take one pill half an hour before bed.” Chen Ruiwen’s voice pulled him back to reality. He had already finished writing the prescription and handed it over.

Si Jingheng took the prescription. As his gaze fell upon the densely packed handwriting, a thought suddenly crossed his mind. He looked up at Chen Ruiwen: “Dr. Chen, Qi Xu… was this the kind of medicine he took back then too?”

Chen Ruiwen shook his head, took a sip from the water cup on the table, and said with a touch of regret, “No. His situation was much more severe than yours. Yours is just short-term stress-induced insomnia combined with overwork, which isn’t a major issue. But Young Master Qi… his insomnia is already chronic, accompanied by depressive tendencies. His condition is much more complex.”

“Chronic?” Si Jingheng’s heart sank abruptly. “You said just now, how long had he been coming?”

“Over three years,” Chen Ruiwen recalled. “The first time he came, he was in a very bad state, incredibly thin. But the boy had a very good personality. I was also afraid he might do something rash, so I prescribed him medicine.”

Three years ago…

A loud boom echoed in Si Jingheng’s mind, as if something had completely collapsed.

More than three years ago was precisely when Qi Xu had not been by his side for very long. Back then, he always felt Qi Xu was too clingy. When he worked late into the night, Qi Xu wouldn’t sleep either, just quietly sitting nearby to keep him company. He had even yelled at him impatiently. He had forcibly kept Qi Xu by his side yet never went back to see him; even when they did meet, there was no communication other than going to bed.

Perhaps Qi Xu already had symptoms back then?

He remembered that Qi Xu seemed to be afraid of the dark, but to cater to his habits and fearing he would be unhappy if he suddenly came home and saw the lights on, Qi Xu always slept with the lights off when he was home alone.

When he was there, Qi Xu would always snuggle into his arms. Qi Xu was very thin, and his hands and feet were always cold, never warming up no matter what, making it feel bony to hold him.

But he never imagined that what he thought was “clinginess” might actually be Qi Xu’s fear of being alone, of the long endless nights. And his actions, without a doubt, only added insult to injury for Qi Xu.

“Did he… did he say why he became like this?” Si Jingheng’s voice was terribly low and raspy, his fingers tightly clutching the prescription, crumpling the paper out of shape.

Chen Ruiwen glanced at him, weighing his words: “He refused to state the specific reason. He only said… the person he likes doesn’t like him back, yet keeps him by their side.”

He remembered that day, Qi Xu was such a small person, as if there wasn’t much energy left in his body, yet even though his condition was already so severe, he still insisted on going home to sleep, fearing someone would be unhappy if they couldn’t find him.

When Qi Xu said those words, Chen Ruiwen understood—it was heartbreak.

He didn’t even want to prescribe medicine for such a case, only advising: “Try to look on the bright side. There are all kinds of people in this world. No one is indispensable to anyone else, and no one would love to the point of throwing their life away. Don’t hang yourself on a single tree.”

But Qi Xu seemed entirely different; he truly could put his life on the line. What did he remember Qi Xu saying back then?

“Doctor, please help me. I want to stay by his side. I really like him so much, but… I don’t want to die yet. I want to look at him more. Doctor, please help me.”

The things Chen Ruiwen said were like a sharp knife, precisely piercing through Si Jingheng’s heart, making him forget to breathe for an instant.

Thinking of his own attitude toward Qi Xu—cold, distant, and even carrying a hint of contempt—he had never shown Qi Xu a good face, had never responded to his feelings, yet craved his warmth at night, silently allowing him to stay by his side.

He thought this was a “bestowal” upon Qi Xu, but never expected that to Qi Xu, it was actually a form of torture.

Si Jingheng’s eyes suddenly grew hot.

He remembered one time when he came home drunk and said a lot of harsh words to Qi Xu, saying that he knew how to do nothing except cling to him. Qi Xu did not argue back then, only silently lowering his head. The next morning, he saw that the bloodshot lines in Qi Xu’s eyes were even heavier, yet he still prepared breakfast for him as usual.

It turned out that those details he had never taken to heart were all Qi Xu’s deep love and endured pain. He was like an executioner, enjoying Qi Xu’s devotion while hurting him in the most brutal way.

“I’ve never seen anyone love another person to such an extent,” Chen Ruiwen’s voice was full of emotion.

Si Jingheng’s fingers began to tremble uncontrollably.

“Then what… what medicine did you prescribe him?” Si Jingheng asked with difficulty.

“A potent antidepressant and sleep aid with relatively large side effects; he shouldn’t take too much of it,” Chen Ruiwen said. “I was afraid he would overdose, so I could only prescribe it to him once a week, making him come in person to collect it, which also served as a follow-up consultation.”

Si Jingheng’s heart sank further: “He…”

“In the beginning, it was on time, but later on it got earlier and earlier.” As if he had long guessed what Si Jingheng would ask, Chen Ruiwen sighed. “I asked him if he failed to take the medicine on time. He often said he was afraid he wouldn’t have time to come in a few days, so he wanted to collect it early. But I could tell he was lying; he must have secretly increased the dosage.”

“Why?” Si Jingheng was puzzled.

“Why else?” Chen Ruiwen glanced at him, a trace of disdain in his eyes. “What do you think? Who was he with every night? It was for that person’s sake, of course.”

Boom—

Si Jingheng only felt his mind go completely blank. All sounds vanished, leaving only Chen Ruiwen’s words echoing repeatedly in his ears.

It turned out that Qi Xu secretly increased his dosage not because he couldn’t bear the pain himself, but because he was afraid of affecting his rest.

He remembered those nights when, no matter how late he returned, Qi Xu was always peaceful and quiet. Even if he couldn’t sleep, he just lay there, being extremely careful even when turning over. Occasionally, he would even hear the sound of dry heaving in the middle of the night.

At that time, he only thought Qi Xu might have a cold, never once imagining that Qi Xu felt sick because he had taken an overdose of medicine.

Si Jingheng’s throat felt as if blocked by something, dry and rough.

“Why… why did he stop coming later?” Si Jingheng’s voice carried a heavy nasal tone. He subconsciously raised his hand and touched his cheek, finding it surprisingly damp.

Chen Ruiwen shook his head: “Probably because his condition improved, or maybe… he just didn’t want to come anymore.”

He remembered what Qi Xu had said to him that night: “Si Jingheng, let me go.”

It turned out that those words were not a momentary impulse, but the despair Qi Xu had accumulated over the years.

And he had only found out about all this now.

He had always assumed that Qi Xu staying by his side was a matter of course, yet he never imagined that Qi Xu was gambling with his own health and life for an impossible love.

“Mr. Si?” Chen Ruiwen called out softly, seeing his despondent look.

Si Jingheng suddenly snapped back to his senses, instantly suppressing the wetness in his eyes. However, his face remained frighteningly pale. He stood up, stumbled, and only managed to steady himself by holding onto the table.

“Thank you, Doctor.” His voice was so low and raspy it was barely audible. Having said that, he turned and walked out.

“Mr. Si,” Chen Ruiwen suddenly called out to stop him, “if you get the chance, help me ask about his condition, and tell him to come in for a follow-up when he has time.”

Si Jingheng nodded stiffly, then pushed the door open and walked out quickly.

The sunlight outside the clinic was somewhat dazzling. Si Jingheng narrowed his eyes instinctively.

Sharp pangs of pain radiated from his heart, clearer than ever before.

He finally understood what the empty piece in his heart was.

Si Jingheng took out his phone, his fingers trembling as he opened his contacts. He found that familiar name; the contact name was “Qi Xu,” followed by a tiny heart emoji—that was added by Qi Xu himself.

He hesitated for a long time, his finger hovering over the dial button, yet he didn’t dare to press it down for the longest time.

He didn’t know what to say to Qi Xu.

Say sorry?

Say he wanted him to come back?

Si Jingheng’s heart felt as if it had been torn in two—one half filled with immense guilt and heartache, the other half with deep panic and helplessness.

Ultimately, Si Jingheng pressed the call button anyway.

“Sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service, please check and dial again. Sorry, The number you dialed does not exist, pleasecheck……”

Si Jingheng stared at his phone in disbelief for a long time.

Next, Si Jingheng sent a message to Qi Xu.

The bright red exclamation mark on the screen told him.

He was blocked.

Author’s Note: Taking your feedback seriously, I’ve decided to keep it low-key. Go check out the fanfics [shy]