Chapter 11#
Zhao Rong was dragged straight home by Qiao Nanqi.
He hadn’t been this drunk in a long time, his whole person dizzy, speaking completely without thinking.
He only knew he had said some “silly words” that he hadn’t spoken for many years. The man, who originally had extremely low air pressure, seemed to slightly relax his grip on his hand.
They stood silently facing each other for a while at the corner where the restroom corridor came out. The tune of that gentle love song slowly came to an end. Except for a few jumping notes, the surroundings quieted down, with only some indistinct conversations from all directions.
Someone knocked over a wine bottle while drinking, and a crisp sound of shattering glass rang out.
Both Zhao Rong and Qiao Nanqi came back to their senses.
Qiao Nanqi dragged him and turned to walk out the door.
“No more drinking from now on,” the man said.
Truly domineering.
Qiao Nanqi just hated the smell of alcohol on his body, not drinking itself. Clearly, when socializing or playing with people like Xia Yuantu, he wasn’t truly a teetotaler. But drinking, on Qiao Nanqi, was a normal social means; on him, it was neglecting proper duties.
In the past, not allowing him to smell of alcohol when this person was at home was one thing, but now he denied all his rights to drink for the rest of his life.
Fortunately, there was no “from now on”.
He followed this person out of the bar, sobered up a bit by the midnight cool breeze, and nodded perfunctorily: “Mm.”
Then he returned home with Qiao Nanqi.
Zhao Rong first threw up violently, then went into the bathroom. Showering in hot water, his drunkenness subsided by half, only then realizing that the wrist Qiao Nanqi grabbed was red and hadn’t faded until now.
Usually, this dog thing looked refined, but his strength was quite great.
He finished showering and walked out of the bathroom wearing a bathrobe.
The main light in the bedroom was not on, only two small lamps by the bed were on, emitting warm yellow light.
Qiao Nanqi disliked the heavy smell of alcohol on him and had showered first. At this moment, he wasn’t asleep either, sitting by the bed reading a book. The warm yellow light reflected in his dark brown eyes, like starlight floating in a boundless sea.
The tips of his hair were still a bit wet, and water droplets slowly slid down the side of his cheek, softening the seriousness brought by his sharply defined face.
Zhao Rong’s footsteps paused, his gaze following the soft light, gently landing on Qiao Nanqi’s face.
Looking like a dog but dressed like a human.
He cursed in his heart for the nth time.
Just as he stepped forward, Qiao Nanqi raised his hand directly and grabbed his collar.
That night Zhao Rong was very proactive.
He knew Qiao Nanqi seemed not very happy—Qiao Nanqi was never very happy in front of him, but he used to be afraid of Qiao Nanqi’s dissatisfaction, being cautious even during such things. Now he didn’t care about anything, treating it as the last time before saying goodbye to Qiao Nanqi, and enjoyed himself thoroughly instead.
Without the pure looking up when his heart moved, nor the caution of the past year together.
Half drunk and half awake, Zhao Rong actually had nothing in his mind.
Qiao Nanqi suddenly pinched his chin, squeezing very hard.
“You are distracted,” this person said.
Zhao Rong directly took advantage of the angle of looking up, his lips gently touching the corner of Qiao Nanqi’s mouth.
He used to like kissing Qiao Nanqi like this.
It felt like lovers.
Qiao Nanqi stopped talking.
When Zhao Rong woke up at noon, his throat hurt terribly.
The consequences of the hangover finally drowned him. He had a splitting headache, an itchy throat, seemed to have a bit of a fever, and his whole body ached as if fearing the world was not chaotic enough.
He wanted to drink water, but there was nothing by the bed. Qiao Nanqi had left at some unknown time—just like before, as if treating everything last night as an emotionless exchange.
But if looked at this way, it was indeed not bad.
This last toss for the breakup was quite a toss, and worth it.
Those past times exchanged for more than a year of sleeping with Qiao Nanqi, the favored son of heaven for whom the whole world existed.
Not a loss, right?
Zhao Rong rested for a while longer and found that the fever not only hadn’t subsided but seemed to have gotten higher.
He got up and ordered a takeout casually, took an antipyretic with the takeout, temporarily suppressed his body temperature, and began to pack his things.
He didn’t bring much more than a year ago. Although he had the habit of buying some small things, none were displayed. After all, he had never really been able to treat this place as his own home.
After a round of packing, apart from clothes and the odds and ends that were already packed well, there were only some mementos he couldn’t bear to throw away before, nothing else.
Zhao Rong was nostalgic. Once many things had a little meaning, he couldn’t bear to throw them away.
When rummaging through things, he also saw a letter pad with only a few pages left used.
The paper had turned somewhat yellow, and because it had been stored in the corner for quite some time, there was a light smell of dust.
Zhao Rong’s head was still a bit dizzy from the fever. In a trance, he remembered doing such a thing.
When he was in high school, before the Chen family found him and took him back.
And he had always kept in mind that life-saving money from Qiao Nanqi that time. Plus, he was originally a reader of this world and naturally had a kind affection for the male lead of this world, so he had always been concerned about the turning point in Qiao Nanqi’s life during that time—Qiao Nanqi’s mother committed suicide and passed away.
Besides that litter of stray cats by Changxi Road, he also tried writing letters.
Nothing more than saying who he was, constantly expressing gratitude, and then writing some warm things, thinking of making Qiao Nanqi’s difficult teenage years in the original work a bit better.
Every time he finished writing, he would secretly stuff it into the mailbox at Qiao Nanqi’s door.
But over time, he found that Qiao Nanqi seemed never to open the mailbox, so he never did such a stupid thing again.
There were many similar stupid things.
For example, in university, Qiao Nanqi’s university was opposite his and Lu Xingping’s university, but their school library was big, and Qiao Nanqi always liked to come and sit here.
Zhao Rong slowly became familiar with the time and pattern of his arrival. Although he didn’t lack money anymore, he still applied for a miscellaneous job in the school library just to take a few looks from afar. Over time, being a book lover himself, observing the books Qiao Nanqi read a few more times, he could roughly know Qiao Nanqi’s taste. Whenever Qiao Nanqi was about to come, the books placed prominently were always the ones Qiao Nanqi would pick up.
Sometimes he would also guess which book Qiao Nanqi would pick next, prepare a book list recommending similar books in advance, print it into a small note and stuff it into that book, as if the previous reader accidentally left it.
At that time, he had been recognized back by the Chen family and had to be a playboy in front of Chen Zehe and those people. He didn’t dare to do such things blatantly, doing them secretly after the library closed, never letting Qiao Nanqi see.
Until Qiao Nanqi was basically not at school and didn’t come to the library after his junior year, Zhao Rong quit that part-time job.
The work permit from back then happened to be sandwiched in this letter pad.
Zhao Rong glanced at it, remembering the corresponding past events, his expression unchanged.
He sorted out these old things from these items, walked to the living room, and threw them all into the trash can at once—when the hourly worker came next time, she would naturally clean them away.
Having thrown away what should be thrown, he took out his copy of the marriage agreement from the safe.
The agreement didn’t explicitly state when the relationship would end, but it wrote specific exchanges of interests—these were almost all completed, just waiting for a plot end.
Not specifying the end time when signing, and the two not going to a legal place to do the last step of getting the certificate, were actually all Qiao Nanqi’s meaning.
Fortunately, fortunately.
He packed his clothes, read through the agreement clause by clause again, confirming that he didn’t breach the contract, then stuffed the agreement into the suitcase. After spending the last day in this quiet small house with no one else, dragging the suitcase, passing the small courtyard where he waited for a day in the wind and snow more than a year ago, he got directly into the car.
Didn’t look back.
Nor did he send any message to Qiao Nanqi.
Because he knew, even if he sent words of divorce, breakup, or farewell, the response would only be a “good”.
Not much necessity.
He just thought in his heart.
Goodbye Qiao Nanqi, the cannon fodder exits from the male lead’s life, pursuing his miserable life of having nothing except that little fraction of money.
Zhao Rong originally wanted to go back to his original home where he lived before being with Qiao Nanqi. It was closer to the sanatorium, convenient for him to visit Zhao Ming.
But he hadn’t returned home for too long. Opening the door, a smell of dust rushed to his nose.
Zhao Rong had no choice but to find someone to clean up and temporarily stayed in a hotel with his suitcase.
Yang City was too big. With this back and forth tossing, it was dark just as he lay down. The effect of the antipyretic he took was long gone.
Zhao Rong had poor nutrition in his childhood, didn’t build a good foundation, and often had fevers. Zhao Ming needed his care, naturally impossible to care for him, let alone Qiao Nanqi, who only treated him as a bed partner. All these years, Zhao Rong was used to dealing with these minor illnesses and pains by himself.
He called a doctor familiarly, hung a drip bottle in the hotel for him, and took some medicine.
After the doctor left, he buried himself in the quilt, tossed and turned for a while, suddenly turned on his phone.
—If he remembered correctly, in university, Lu Xingping’s major seemed to be something related to medicine?
He lacked an opportunity to get familiar with Lu Xingping too much now.
Zhao Rong thought for a moment and found Lu Xingping’s phone number from the contacts.
The last call record was actually from Lu Xingping’s phone number calling him. It was Qiao Nanqi and Lu Xingping at a piano exhibition, planning to drop by Qiao Nanqi’s house for a meal. Qiao Nanqi’s phone ran out of battery, used Lu Xingping’s phone to call him, asking him to prepare.
The time was two or three weeks ago.
Okay, not too early. Thanks to Young Master Qiao, he met Lu Xingping more than half a month ago. This call wouldn’t be considered sudden after not seeing for a long time.
Zhao Rong considered the wording and dialed Lu Xingping’s number.
The busy tone didn’t ring for long before a clear male voice came from the other end, tone peaceful, with a bit of hesitation: “…Zhao Rong?”
“Senior…” Although Zhao Rong’s fever situation was actually better after finishing the drip and taking medicine, he deliberately suppressed his voice, making his tone intentionally weaker, “Are you busy?”
“Hmm?” Lu Xingping was stunned for a moment, “Not busy.”
Zhao Rong coughed twice before saying: “I seem to have a bit of a fever, alone in the room don’t know how to handle it. Remembering Senior is a doctor, so wanted to ask if Senior has time to help me take a look?”
Zhao Rong really hadn’t been a playboy with many tricks. In the past chasing Qiao Nanqi, the method was also clumsy, just constantly showing his true heart to Qiao Nanqi.
At this moment, one really regrets having read too few books when needed.
After saying it himself, he felt it was too obviously intentional.
There was silence on the other end.
Zhao Rong also followed with silence for a few seconds.
Was he really a bit too stiff? He thought.
Another few seconds passed. Zhao Rong worried if his tone was slightly deliberate, planning to speak to make this call a bit more natural, but Lu Xingping spoke first over there.
“Zhao Rong.”
“Mm?”
“I am a psychiatrist.”
Zhao Rong: “.”