Chapter 21#
Does it hurt?#
Li Heng held the person who was slowly growing cold.
He blurted out everything he could say in this lifetime, incoherently, recklessly making grand promises: No problem, what’s so difficult, I’ll definitely give face to Film Emperor Ji, it’s effortless… it’s just one day.
Just one day.
“I’ll handle it, Ji Landong, you just breathe.” Li Heng cupped his face, “Ji Landong, remember to breathe.”
He tried to use a clumsy taunt: “Isn’t one day too unexciting, too unaspiring? Ji Landong, don’t you want to split the bill with me?”
It seemed so.
The person he was holding, a faint, distant smile flickered in his eyes, and the next moment, the fingertips that had been playing in his palm irresponsibly slipped away.
The blurry light froze there.
Reality supported the objective judgment that the deceased had almost no chance of resuscitation.
The rescue workers hesitated, the words “my condolences” unsaid, meeting Li Heng’s eyes, as if seeing a ferocious beast, bloody enough to tear everything apart.
…
That night was not peaceful.
The emergency rescue continued from the helicopter to the hospital. Snowflakes of critical illness notices needed immediate signatures. Outside the emergency room, Li Heng sat motionless, clutching a gun.
The gun was not for anything, even though Li Heng really wanted to shoot Ji Ran and Li Xingyun.
He had just begun to be a non-atheist.
Completely clueless, so he prepared chaotically, just in case some grim reaper, ox-headed demon, or mutated poisonous mushroom suddenly appeared to take Ji Landong away.
Could the gun be of any use?
Who knew.
Li Heng sat on a long bench in the corridor. Li Xingyun stumbled over, panting heavily, his face pale, eyes bloodshot, desperately grabbing Li Heng’s muddy and bloody trouser leg: “Ji Landong… what happened to Ji Landong?”
He dared not call Ji Landong “brother” again. The last time he did, Li Xingyun was beaten half to death by Li Heng in that enclosed balcony.
This time, before Li Xingyun could act foolishly, he was pinned to the ground by Li Heng’s gaze.
Li Xingyun’s throat moved.
He shivered.
He slumped to the ground, desperately trying to keep his eyes open, tears suddenly gushing out uncontrollably.
Li Xingyun curled up, hugging his head, panting violently for a while, then slowly released his hair, looking at his hands in a daze.
“I… I’m a scoundrel,” Li Xingyun stammered, “I deserve to die.”
“Li Heng,” he asked, “do you need any organs to save Ji Landong? Kill me, take them for him, blood too, draw my blood, please, I know I was wrong, let me…”
The black muzzle pressed against his forehead silenced him abruptly.
Li Xingyun couldn’t make a sound.
The terrifying darkness and coldness in Li Heng’s eyes made the act of shooting seem far from a joke.
A few seconds later, Li Xingyun’s eyes seemed to seep blood. He frantically raised his hand to pull Li Heng’s trigger, but was twisted by the shoulders and pressed to the ground by the surrounding agents, still struggling desperately to reach for the gun.
He really wanted to do it, as if he had gone mad.
Li Xingyun knew he was wrong. He knelt outside the emergency room, wishing he could smash his head, his mind filled with Ji Landong.
Ji Landong lying on the sofa, Ji Landong watching him play games with his arm as a pillow, Ji Landong slowly tying his tie… those eyes were mostly quiet, unusually warm, sometimes gracefully curving.
Such a Ji Landong.
He was fiercely pushed out of the house, his back hitting the wall.
Ji Landong was even a little surprised and confused, but not angry, still looking at him quietly.
Ji Landong said: “Xingyun…”
Ji Landong didn’t finish his sentence before he slammed the door shut.
The peephole had an automatic recording function for prolonged stays. Ji Landong pressed his ribs with one hand, standing there for a long time, until the “normal” Ji Landong finally disappeared.
Becoming the “true” Ji Landong.
Ji Landong thought for a while about what to do, found nothing to do, and then slowly turned and left, passing the sack filled with personal belongings that Li Xingyun had thrown out in a fit of anger.
The expensive gifts in the bag rolled everywhere, snatched up by overjoyed scavengers.
Ji Landong didn’t pick up or take any of them.
A scavenger, rushing to grab things, bumped into him hard, spat, looked him up and down, cursed “lunatic,” and forcefully pushed aside the annoying obstacle.
…
Wasn’t that satisfying?
The indifferent CEO Li, upholding righteousness, painfully chose “justice.”
Li Xingyun tasted this feeling.
This incident greatly satisfied his hot-blooded passion for “punishing evil and promoting good”—he had just made a great sacrifice, driving away a villain, a murderer who exploited legal loopholes.
He had just triumphantly judged, scourged, and eagerly helped those with ulterior motives, tying Ji Landong up and pushing him into the fire to burn.
Believing he could burn out a demon, burn out countless crimes.
But when the irreparable ashes were sifted through, there was only a ghost quietly lingering in icy water, who never wanted to harm him, and never harmed any good person.
“You enjoyed it.”
Li Heng slowly squatted down, grabbing Li Xingyun’s hair, forcing him to look up: “Didn’t you?”
Li Xingyun’s face was ashen, his pupils constricted, his gaze slowly turning desperate and hollow.
He was silently choked by Li Heng, too weak to struggle, his chest heaving with difficulty, his purplish mouth opening and closing futilely, unable to inhale or utter a single word in his defense.
Because Li Heng wasn’t wrong.
That was the truth.
Regret, remorse, frantic attempts to compensate… those were all things that came later.
Li Xingyun, having calmed down, indeed regretted it to death.
But what was the point, what good was regret? Could one shoot someone in the heart, cruelly enjoying the pleasure of slaughter, and then say “regret” and stuff the blood and minced flesh back in and sew it up?
Calling it “redemption.”
Li Heng looked down at him, his gaze icy, his thumb slowly applying pressure: “Now.”
Now.
Now, when all harm is completely irreversible.
He was actually very surprised that Li Xingyun still had the nerve to come here to play the victim, cry, and perform pain and repentance.
“Li Xingyun.”
Li Heng whispered in his ear: “Death is easy, you don’t have to be in such a hurry.”
He just temporarily couldn’t spare the time or effort to deal with these two people; the investigation into Ji Ran and the Li family was still ongoing.
He hadn’t forgotten.
…The color completely drained from Li Xingyun’s face.
His pupils contracted to pinpricks.
Li Heng lowered his eyes.
Li Xingyun was choked by his single hand, his face turning from red to purple, his eyes slowly rolling back, his body convulsing, his legs spasming.
A human-shaped sack filled with mud was thrown on the ground.
The agent seemed not to notice, silently and neatly dragging away the unconscious man.
Li Heng took a wet handkerchief and repeatedly wiped his hands.
He took the pen.
Returning to the emergency room door, he signed the consent form for ECMO.
ECMO, an artificial lung that replaces heart and lung function, is so expensive it burns money. Being forced to use it meant Ji Landong’s heart had lost its proper function.
Yet Li Heng remained so calm and composed that he seemed not to understand the ominous meaning on the paper.
Putting down the pen, he sat back on the long bench, taking the report handed to him by his subordinate to read, as if he also didn’t see the doctor’s hesitant expression.
The investigation bureau never stopped, agents were still working, coming and going in an orderly fashion, receiving and executing instructions in the hospital corridor.
Li Heng had transformed back into that precise humanoid machine.
Ji Ran was fully wanted.
He and Ji Landong’s birth mother, Fan Yinghua, were brought in for questioning from the mental hospital on charges of intentional injury.
Relevant personnel were quickly controlled and arrested, made to “recall” what had happened, digging out evidence of crimes they tried to conceal and bury forever.
Overnight, one shocking scandal after another exploded, quickly linking from one circle to another, the revelations enough to trigger an unprecedented upheaval.
…These irrelevant matters were not enough to trouble Chief Li, whose profession was catching thieves.
Li Heng stood in the disinfection room, wearing a protective suit.
He had just issued the highest-level warrant for Ji Ran. This rat, who couldn’t bear to be seen, had escaped again, but his agent was caught, and there were many clues, so he wouldn’t be too hard to find.
Li Heng waited for the strong smell of disinfectant to dissipate.
He was led into the intensive care unit, coming to the side of the massive life support equipment, gently cupping the pale, thin, and extremely quiet hand.
Ji Landong’s body was connected to the machines.
His eyes closed, a breathing tube in his mouth, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, guided by the airflow.
Li Heng gently stroked his hair.
Ji Landong slept very soundly. The tips of his bangs seemed to poke his eyelids, so Li Heng carefully brushed them aside for him.
“Ji Landong.”
The visiting opportunity was precious. To ensure that the faint spark of life was undisturbed, each visit was short. Li Heng carefully considered what to say to Ji Landong after entering.
It certainly shouldn’t be those disgusting bad things.
Not a single one.
Those twisted, misplaced, chaotic past events, since Ji Landong didn’t want to ask about them or deal with them anymore, then they shouldn’t bother him again.
Chief Li happened to have a little bit of power.
Just enough to completely guarantee this.
“Ji Landong,” Li Heng asked softly, “I’m going to walk the dog, I’ll bring breakfast, millet porridge with a few spoonfuls of sugar?”
No response.
Li Heng touched the soft eyelids, slowly stroking down to the base of the eyelashes. This action should have been a little ticklish.
Ji Landong still lay motionless.
The doctors believed this was the best outcome: Ji Landong would not wake up again. As long as the life support equipment was removed, all vital signs would disappear within five minutes.
And ECMO was burning money.
Li Heng certainly wasn’t short of money, but money was something you could never have too much of. He was running for senator, and the campaign funding for this was a bottomless pit that simply devoured money—senate seats weren’t open every year.
Missing this opportunity, the most promising young prospective senator might only end up as an ordinary director of the investigation bureau, even if he worked until old age.
Yet Li Heng seemed to have never considered this issue.
He accompanied the unconscious Ji Landong, who was like a shadow, softly chatting about irrelevant things.
His voice was low, his tone light, and his expression was even very relaxed and tender.
“Move in with me?” Li Heng discussed with Ji Landong. He had long disliked that river-view apartment. “I have a few nice places, suitable for vacation. Ji Landong, do you prefer a sunny beach villa or a snowy mountain cabin with a fireplace?”
Each had its pros and cons.
A sunny beach villa was warm, located in the tropics. The advantage was that the temperature was high all year round, and the disadvantage was also that the temperature was high all year round. Playing in the snow would be impossible.
Even less could one roll a snowball and stuff it into Chief Li’s proper uniform collar.
As for the snowy mountain cabin with a fireplace, it was warm enough. Li Heng would prioritize insulation, so there would be no more accidental chills.
The disadvantage was that it was inevitably a bit desolate and lonely. The long winter days would inevitably be boring.
Li Heng unhurriedly analyzed the pros and cons of potential homes for Ji Landong and possible solutions.
For example, using sweet cream instead of snow.
To avoid getting clothes dirty, Chief Li could go without clothes.
For example, the long winter days in the snowy mountains were boring. Since they were boring, they would kiss.
Chief Li could be responsible for studying and refining his kissing skills.
Chief Li could go without clothes.
“Look,” Li Heng said softly, “your opinion is crucial, Ji Landong, let’s vote by a show of hands.”
Ji Landong’s eyes were closed, one hand held by him. His thin eyelids seemed to have a very subtle, comfortable curve, and his chest rose and fell mechanically.
Li Heng smiled. He didn’t mind being seen, leaning down to kiss Ji Landong’s eyes through his mask.
Whichever it was.
“Move in with me,” Li Heng said.
He gently stroked Ji Landong’s hair, trying to boast: “I can walk the dog, make steamed buns and desserts, repair and modify ambulances, my kissing skills are not bad, and I’ll be very free for the next seventy years.”
He embraced Ji Landong through the protective suit. Film Emperor Ji haughtily remained motionless, kindly allowing him to hug him.
Ji Landong’s vital signs became a series of curves.
Ji Landong was breathing.
Li Heng thanked him for this. Besides gratitude, there was something else. Li Heng showed him two plain wedding bands.
Ji Landong’s ring was actually a bit too large. This was Chief Li’s private intention; he believed he could take very good care of Ji Landong, and Ji Landong’s body would get better, so how could he buy a ring based on a skeletal size?
“Ji Landong.”
“Ji Landong.”
Li Heng gently coaxed him: “Wake up, move in with me, we’ll build thirty thousand and one snowmen.”
…
…
“Waiting for Ji Landong’s body to get better.”
This required a great deal of patience.
The system repeatedly wrote silently: “Can’t rush.”
“Can’t rush.”
The former villain redemption system, having resigned, took on a second job as an ambulance.
This job was good. The system could use the treatment modules in its database that hadn’t been recalled to try and repair Ji Landong’s body. The system’s treatment modules were naturally much more advanced than those in this world.
So, some “medical miracles” naturally occurred.
For example, from a certain day, keeping Ji Landong alive no longer required burning Chief Li’s money on ECMO.
This was great news, after all, Li Heng’s money should absolutely be used for something else—wouldn’t it be better to save it to buy Ji Landong a sweet, soft little cake full of cream in the future?
The system thought it was good.
Ji Landong should eat little cakes.
And for example, one day, Ji Landong successfully came off the ventilator and no longer needed to stay in a sterile room.
From this day on, Chief Li unilaterally resumed his kissing rights.
The system thought that was also acceptable.
But Ji Landong should still eat little cakes.
Then one day, Ji Landong seemed no longer completely silent. When Li Heng massaged and wiped him, carefully supporting his back to lift him, there was a very faint fluctuation in his brainwave monitoring.
Then one day, Ji Landong opened his eyes when Li Heng played a video of Pudding destroying the house on his phone.
The doctor said this was unconscious eye movement, or a nerve reflex of the eye muscles, not indicative of conscious awareness. Ji Landong’s brain function was severely damaged, and he wouldn’t wake up.
The system was very angry, tapping the doctor’s head with an invisible virtual data bar.
What do you know, what do you know.
Ji Landong was a villain. The system now believed that part of the definition of a villain should be a resistance organization that fights against fate’s randomness, a stubborn opposition to messed-up stories.
Villains have strong vitality.
Villains are not material to be discarded after the story ends.
Ji Landong’s story wasn’t over yet.
…
Then one day.
Ji Landong was allowed to be discharged.
Their whole family came to pick Ji Landong up from the hospital: Li Heng, the puppy Pudding, and the system that had transformed itself into a mushroom bouquet. The whole family was impatiently present.
After the dazzling array of instrument tubes were removed, Ji Landong regained his freedom, leaning against Li Heng’s shoulder.
Li Heng gently kissed his forehead, eyelids, and eyelashes, helping him change clothes. Ji Landong’s arm was held by him and slipped into a stiff woolen coat, his wrist bone quietly bent, his long, pale fingers softly drooping.
Li Heng helped Ji Landong tie his scarf, with a hint of showing off, making a very beautiful knot.
Li Heng kissed Ji Landong’s closed eyes.
His lips pressed against them, the warmth scalding his eyelashes.
Warm raindrops lightly touched his fingers.
Ji Landong’s body reacted, trembling slightly unconsciously. Ji Landong’s most sensitive spot was actually his hands, Li Heng had discovered this long ago.
Film Emperor Ji couldn’t stand his hands being held, cupped, and clutched without letting go.
Couldn’t stand old, mottled scars being kissed.
Li Heng bought the most expensive, blatantly overpriced wheelchair, but didn’t push it over, leaving it in the spacious trunk. Ji Landong’s forehead rested in the crook of his neck, his chest rising and falling faintly, very quiet.
They walked through a small patch of slowly melting snow, somewhat muddy. Melting snow was colder than falling snow.
Ji Landong’s bangs swayed gently with their steps.
Icy air flowed into Chief Li’s uniform collar.
Li Heng carried Ji Landong into the car, turned on the warm air, and held that hand, warming it against his face.
He massaged Ji Landong’s body every day to prevent muscle atrophy and ligament contracture. Ji Landong’s body was well cared for, and his complexion was even better than before.
They took Ji Landong home. The “cabin” Chief Li prepared was a bit more luxurious, with a small pasture of over ten square kilometers, now covered in white snow.
The cabin was warm as spring, the fireplace burning brightly, sparks flying.
Several wind chimes, made of pebbles from the stream at the foot of the mountain, hung by the window. The floor was covered with colorful, exotic hand-woven blankets, and there was a fragrant Christmas roast chicken in the oven.
The system eagerly told Ji Landong all this: “Ji Landong, don’t you want to see it with your own eyes?”
Then you have to wake up.
Opening your eyes isn’t enough, you have to wake up from sleep.
The system was willing to turn into any color or shape of mushroom for this.
Pudding gently bit Ji Landong’s sleeve, refusing to let go. Ji Landong’s hand was pulled down, and the slightly grown puppy whined and nudged him with its head.
Li Heng stroked the puppy’s head.
He and Pudding were not strictly friendly, because from Pudding’s perspective, Li Heng took Ji Landong away, but returned home alone a few days later.
Pudding was very sad about this.
The puppy barked loudly, then turned into a threatening growl, sniffing around him, struggling to run out the door to find another figure.
That day, Chief Li stood silently at the door, his usual composure collapsing without warning.
That day, Li Heng sat on the ground, leaning against the wall. In the darkness, the puppy hesitated for a long time, slowly approached, whimpering ingratiatingly as it bit his sleeve and tugged outwards, wanting to go out.
Go out.
Go out and find Ji Landong to bring him home.
…
Now, Pudding had learned to jump onto the sofa with great care.
Not breaking anything, not making any harsh noises, quietly snuggling into Ji Landong’s arms.
Ji Landong leaned on the sofa, protected by some pillows, one arm propped up. Pudding leaned against his ribs, looking up, gently nudging him with its nose, and the hand behind him slipped down again.
Li Heng came to help, holding Ji Landong’s hand, gently stroking the puppy’s fur for him.
Ji Landong’s eyes curved slightly.
The system regretted helping Ji Landong with this.
Ji Landong had asked it back then: he didn’t want his post-mortem photos to be trending, nor did he want people to point fingers and speculate with a mournful face, as if his life had been so miserable and terrible.
This sounded very reasonable, so the system lent Ji Landong this module, making Ji Landong appear as if he was very comfortable.
As if comfortable, as if always happy.
Ji Landong learned this skill, leaving behind a seemingly unharmed body. So even if the wish to “live one more day” ultimately wasn’t fulfilled, it seemed there were no regrets… Li Heng didn’t have to regret for him, nor did the system and the puppy Pudding.
Ji Landong knew how deep a scar “death” would leave on the living.
Ji Landong really disliked scars.
So even this, he didn’t want to leave behind.
“Ji Landong,” the system whispered, “the bad guys got their comeuppance, do you want to see?”
Ji Ran, Fan Yinghua, and those extreme fans who thought they could kill from behind a screen without consequences, all received their retribution. Li Heng investigated each one with great patience.
The truth came out, everything was made public.
Ji Ran was arrested in a dilapidated basement, reported by his former fans.
The system tried to pull Ji Landong into gossiping: “Li Heng investigated so thoroughly, all the slanderers were prosecuted, their发言 records exposed. Ji Landong, there weren’t that many people after all.”
It was just that the crazy ones were the loudest, the most vocal, talking non-stop all day.
The system tried to comment on Li Heng: “Ji Landong, Li Heng is so idle after withdrawing from the election, shouldn’t you find him something to do?”
Li Heng wasn’t just idle.
Li Heng appeared very calm, composed, more rational than anyone, but occasionally he would disappear for half a day.
Li Heng, leaving a certain prison in the investigation bureau, would carry a chilling, bloody aura that needed repeated cleansing.
Of course, these would not be brought home. Li Heng cleaned himself very thoroughly. The Chief Li who returned home was a rather gentle and ordinary office worker. He would stew a pot of hot soup, chase after Pudding who had rolled in the snow again to wipe his paws, and cuddle with Ji Landong on the sofa to watch movies, preparing a candlelight dinner adorned with ice cream and fruit-flavored sparkling wine.
Ji Landong finally got to eat the cream cake that the system had been obsessing over to the point of data cracks.
This day was Ji Landong’s birthday.
It was not surprising that Ji Landong was born in winter, and Film Emperor Ji’s birthday was not hard to find.
Li Heng tried to make a cake, and it was somewhat successful. The aroma of cream and baked eggs filled the entire house wantonly; just smelling it was like eating two pounds of white sugar.
Li Heng held Ji Landong’s hand, desperately promoting this small, plain-looking homemade cake.
They leaned lazily on the sofa, the wind beating against the window, unable to enter. The hazy moisture obscured the snowy landscape outside, and the room was so warm that no slightly thick long-sleeved clothing could be worn.
The coffee on the fireplace was actually a bit over-brewed, its slightly bitter burnt aroma mingling with the sweetness of the cream.
“Sir,” Chief Li, acting as a cake salesman, was also proper and serious, “You should eat some cake, it’s very simple, you see.”
System: “…”
Sigh.
The system skillfully covered Pudding’s eyes.
Li Heng turned around, cupping the back of Ji Landong’s neck with one hand, kneeling to promote this piece of cake, his figure gently encircling Ji Landong.
Ji Landong leaned on the sofa, his fingers slightly curled on his lap, his thin waist and back gently embraced, his body leaning towards Li Heng, a touch of cream on the pale corners of his lips.
Ji Landong was carefully held.
Unconscious, his eyes were hollow and blank, his pupils diffused and cleanly dark.
Li Heng kissed his eyes, not a complicated kiss, just an extremely gentle touch, his lips pressing against the trembling eyelashes.
Li Heng tried to part the weakly closed lips and teeth. The mouthwash he chose for Ji Landong this morning was mint mojito flavored, very refreshing.
Gently stirring the base of his tongue, his mouth, the sweet cream could slightly awaken a dormant swallowing instinct. Ji Landong swallowed a tiny bit of cake.
A smile couldn’t help but appear in Li Heng’s eyes.
He gently stroked Ji Landong’s hair, his voice soft: “Thank you.”
He kissed the corner of Ji Landong’s mouth, eating the remaining cream. He held Ji Landong’s hand. When his calloused thumb slid over his fingers, Ji Landong’s body trembled.
Li Heng lowered his head, gently resting his forehead on Ji Landong’s slender collarbone, quietly looking at Ji Landong’s hand.
Ji Landong’s hands were beautiful, but they had too many scars, some small, some gruesome, impossible to ignore.
His bloodless fingers curled unconsciously.
Li Heng felt they were a bit cold and decided to get a hot towel to warm Ji Landong’s hands. When he turned, he made a common and tragic mistake of dog owners: after the room had been quiet for a long time, he forgot to check where the dog was sleeping.
He also didn’t expect the system, which had been covering its camera for so long, to despair.
Chief Li, who almost stepped on Pudding, immediately took off, holding the half-eaten cake, and chose to smear the cake on Pudding’s face instead of washing the sofa, washing clothes, or wiping the floor.
Pudding was very happy.
Chief Li fell hard.
He also implicated Ji Landong, who had been sitting nicely on the sofa. Li Heng tightly hugged the person he fell with, making sure Ji Landong wasn’t bumped or bruised, then breathed a sigh of relief, lying on the floor, amused by this rather boring trivial accident.
How trivial.
What kind of decent screenwriter would write such a script?
Li Heng softly apologized, protecting Ji Landong’s chest and ribs, carefully lifting him up a bit, letting Ji Landong rest his head on his arm. They lay face to face on the carpet.
He found that Ji Landong was implicated because his fingers had hooked onto Li Heng’s gun holster strap.
This accident made Li Heng freeze for a few seconds.
Some memories resurfaced without warning—Ji Landong leaning over, slowly tidying his strap. Ji Landong seemed very interested in these straps. Ji Landong fiddled with them for a long time.
Some conversations that seemed meaningless at the time: Li Heng was curious about what Ji Landong was studying. Ji Landong shook his head, lazily letting them go, reminding Li Heng that loosening the gun holster strap because it was tight was an unsafe and unsuitable habit for showing off.
It was easy to accidentally hook and take something away.
Ji Landong was right.
Li Heng thought, holding Ji Landong, whom he had hooked away.
He remembered that day, Ji Landong casually said: “Didn’t bring this that time?”
Li Heng, of course, knew what “that time” meant, as their shared memories were pitifully few back then. Twelve years ago, Li Heng didn’t use a gun holster strap.
That time, Li Heng didn’t even bring a gun on duty.
The investigation bureau didn’t always have dangerous missions, nor did it catch heinous fugitives every day.
Such an oversight was normal.
Very normal…
Li Heng thought about this for a while.
Then he inexplicably made up stories for himself. Perhaps it was from spending too much time with Film Emperor Ji; he often did this now.
He imagined that he had brought a gun that day, but because it was tight, he had loosened the holster strap a lot, so he accidentally hooked the fifteen-year-old silent boy standing under the moon.
The young agent, utterly embarrassed, had to apologize and explain in a flurry, then froze when he finally saw the pale boy clearly, frowning, and re-examined the hands that had far too many wounds.
“Ji Landong.” Li Heng, still an agent, wasn’t stupid. He would definitely pull the person over. “How much it must hurt.”
…
Chief Li, lying on the floor, said hoarsely.
How much it must hurt.
He gently stroked Ji Landong’s hair, looking at the close, thin, peaceful face.
He pressed his forehead closer, finding himself trembling.
Ji Landong’s pain had grown in his chest and body. Of course, Chief Li had brought this upon himself. He held the person and kissed him wildly, unable to control his overwhelming emotions. He insisted on jumping into the icy water too.
He pulled the person from the icy water, holding him tightly. The long-maintained facade collapsed, and he saw the never-healed wounds on Ji Landong’s body.
This was a person whose ears would turn red if his hand was gently held.
Film Emperor Ji, who used superb acting to hide his shyness, was kissed, caressed, and held blankly, with a hint of the fresh, clear wonder of a fifteen-year-old boy in his eyes.
Ji Landong had never eaten it, and asked the Li Heng in another world: Are steamed buns delicious?
Is there anyone in this world more good-tempered, softer-hearted, and more amenable to persuasion than Ji Landong, who, even after being scraped down to almost a skeleton, would want to eat treacle sponge pudding again, and want to play in the snow again, with just a little coaxing?
How much it must hurt.
Ji Landong.
Ji Landong.
Li Heng couldn’t speak, his hands trembled violently, desperately stroking Ji Landong’s face again and again. He kissed these unconscious yet softly curved eyes chaotically, beneath which were bloody, crisscrossing wounds.
The hollow, diffused, blank darkness was like the night sky after the snow stopped, where even starlight had vanished.
Li Heng couldn’t wipe away the tears falling on Ji Landong’s face. He apologized incoherently for this, and he could no longer suppress the question of “how much it hurts.”
Even though he had always tried his best to cooperate with Ji Landong by not mentioning it.
“Does it hurt?” Li Heng futilely massaged Ji Landong, “Ji Landong, I’ll take care of it, I’ll rub it for you, do you know where it hurts?”
He had no idea where to rub. Should he rub his heart through his chest? Or caress these overly quiet eyes?
Carefully, presumptuously, trying to warm them with the faint heat gathered in his palm.
Li Heng realized with some confusion that he seemed to be wiping away more tears than were flowing out.
He thought for a few seconds about what was happening.
Then it was as if his heart was squeezed.
He laboriously cupped this face: “Ji Landong.”
He stroked Ji Landong’s hair, eyes, and cheeks. He got up, carried Ji Landong back to the sofa, carefully encircling him with his arms, shoulders, and chest, holding him close, gently rubbing the back of his head and neck in circles, stroking his numb back again and again.
He gently covered these eyes, which seemed to be constantly smiling, with his palm.
Tears scalded his palm.