Chapter 15

This time, Qi Cheng’s episode felt more like an act of defiance.

Unlike his previous episodes where he would completely shut himself off from the world, this time he could still hear and see what was happening outside. He just couldn’t be bothered to respond.

It was only then that Qi Peng truly believed what Dr. Zhao had said about Qi Cheng’s improvement. The positive influence Chi Zhihan had on Qi Cheng during this month-long relaxation therapy had exceeded everyone’s expectations.

He finally agreed with Dr. Zhao’s suggestion—not to restrict Chi Zhihan’s actions in any way and to let her act “without restraint.”

However, at the time, none of them could have predicted just how… unceremonious Chi Zhihan’s “without restraint” would turn out to be.

…

Chi Zhihan stood in the hallway for over ten minutes, clutching the lunch tray, before she mustered the courage to open the door. Her heart pounded like a drum, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was about to open Pandora’s box…

It was 11:30 in the morning, a crisp autumn day with bright sunshine outside.

But the room was pitch black.

All the floor-to-ceiling windows were tightly covered with blackout curtains. Despite what should have been a spacious, airy room, the moment Chi Zhihan opened the door, she was hit by a wave of stifling heat that made it hard to breathe.

Unable to find the light switch, she could only stand at the doorway, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Only then could she barely make out the room’s layout.

It was eerily empty.

The two- to three-hundred-square-meter space was almost entirely open, with walls lined with cabinets and windows. At the far end was a staircase leading to the third floor, and behind it, half of a bed was faintly visible.

In the center of the room were three single-seater sofas arranged in an interview-style setup, facing each other, with a small coffee table in the middle.

To the left was what appeared to be a workspace—a massive desk that could easily hide a person, with several monitors and a chair that was out of sight.

To the right was the kitchen, with no dining table, just a long bar counter. Only by looking carefully could you spot a single barstool tucked away in a corner, perfect for hiding in the shadows.

This kind of setup…

Chi Zhihan bit her lower lip.

It made her heart ache.

The person living here seemed to be trying to shrink his presence within this vast space. His footprints, aside from the interrogation-like sofas in the center, were all in places where he could hide.

“I made egg congee with a bit of homemade beef floss,” Chi Zhihan said as she set the lunch down. The room was so dark that she accidentally burned her hand while serving the congee, letting out a small hiss of pain.

“I was worried you might not have much of an appetite, so I added a small plate of pickled radish,” she said, shaking her reddened hand while continuing to serve the radish. “Where’s the light switch in here…? I can’t see a thing…”

She muttered under her breath, then turned to look toward the bed.

There was definitely someone lying there, but they hadn’t moved since she entered.

If Dr. Zhao hadn’t emphasized that Qi Cheng was wearing a heart rate, blood pressure, and body temperature monitor, with immediate response in case of abnormalities, Chi Zhihan would have worried whether the person on the bed had already passed away…

Even so, she couldn’t help but feel that this stifling, pitch-black environment was far from ideal for recovery.

“Dr. Zhao said I’m not supposed to get too close to you yet,” Chi Zhihan hesitated, “but I’m a bit worried about you. If you’re okay, could you… maybe move a little?”

After saying this, she realized how strange her request sounded and bit her lip, standing there for a moment before adding, “I’m not saying I think you’re dead or anything…”

Never mind. She should just shut up…

Frustrated, she added an extra piece of pickled radish to his plate. He had seemed to like them last time, though she always limited it to five pieces, worried that too much pickled food might not be good for his health.

The figure on the bed finally moved after Chi Zhihan had finished setting everything out.

The movement was quite noticeable, as he knocked on the wooden headboard, startling the unprepared Chi Zhihan who nearly spilled the remaining congee on herself.

“…Thank you,” she sighed in relief. Any response was better than none.

“I don’t know the specifics of your condition or if there are any dietary restrictions. Qi Peng only asked for easily digestible ingredients, so to be safe, I made congee,” Chi Zhihan’s tone lightened after getting a response. “This is a family recipe. Whenever I got sick as a child, my mom would make this egg congee for me.”

“Drink it while it’s hot and get better soon. I just renewed my contract for another year. Yesterday, I made some wine and sauce all by myself across the hall,” she started chattering away. “Osmanthus wine—not too sweet.”

The bed returned to silence, the figure unmoving once again.

Chi Zhihan bit her lip, conflicted.

Yesterday, Qi Peng had told her to leave after explaining the menu.

But the temperature in the room was so high that staying too long might actually cause heatstroke.

“I…” she hesitated, her mind screaming at her not to meddle, yet remembering how he had taken care of her over the past month. She had solemnly told Qi Ning and Qi Peng that she acted based on her conscience…

“The temperature in here is too high, and with all the windows closed, there’s no ventilation. It’s not good for recovery,” she blurted out in one breath. “Can I open one of the floor-to-ceiling windows nearest the door just a little to let some air in?”

“I’ll keep the curtains closed. I’ll just open the window a tiny bit, okay?” she asked cautiously. “If you agree, just knock on the headboard again.”

Silence.

“…Then, how about just a quarter of the way open?” she asked even more cautiously.

…

The figure on the bed rustled slightly and gave a light knock on the headboard.

Reluctantly, the sound muffled with unwillingness.

For some reason, Chi Zhihan found this oddly endearing. As she opened the window, a smile crept onto her face. “There are a lot of osmanthus trees outside. They smell amazing. I’ve been leaving my window open at night because I can’t bear to close it.”

“Autumn is the best. So many fruits are ripe, and I can make all sorts of dishes with them,” Chi Zhihan quickly adjusted the curtains, ensuring the room stayed dark before turning back to look at the bed. “I ordered some chestnuts from Qinglong, in Hebei. In a few days, I can make chestnut yokan for a late-night snack.”

The bundled figure on the bed shifted slightly.

Chi Zhihan’s smile widened. He seemed to be quite the foodie, enjoying pastries that weren’t too sweet and meat dishes.

Every time she listed off dishes, the camera would move the fastest.

“Drink the congee while it’s hot. Just leave the dishes when you’re done. I’ll come back in two hours to clean up,” she said as she put her shoes back on before closing the door. “If there’s anything you’d like to eat, just leave a note on the counter. I’ll make it tomorrow.”

She lingered at the doorway a while longer, making sure the window she had opened wouldn’t let in too much wind, before quietly closing the door behind her.

With a soft click, the room returned to silence.

It was still dark, but now there was a faint aroma of congee mixed with osmanthus.

Qi Cheng burrowed deeper into his blanket, as if trying to shrink further into himself. After a moment of stillness, he shifted again.

Then, a pale hand emerged from the blanket, gripping the edge tightly, struggling for a moment.

Finally, he sat up, his hair a messy tangle, and walked barefoot to the counter.

Qi Cheng didn’t look well. Dr. Zhao hadn’t prescribed medication this time either. He had only been on a glucose drip yesterday, and he hadn’t touched any of the three meals Auntie Liu had brought.

Before slipping into his autistic state, he had felt somewhat hungry, but it wasn’t until Chi Zhihan mentioned the pickled radish that his appetite finally stirred.

Sitting on the barstool, he picked up a piece of pickled radish and popped it into his mouth. It was very sour, with a fresh, spicy kick from the chili peppers.

He chewed expressionlessly for a moment, then quietly picked up his chopsticks and began eating in the darkness, hidden in the shadows.

As his stomach warmed, Qi Cheng sniffed, catching the faint scent of osmanthus in the air.

Were there really that many osmanthus trees in the yard? He had lived here for ten years and never noticed.

After drinking the last spoonful of congee, Qi Cheng wiped his mouth with a napkin, his brow furrowed tightly.

Chi Zhihan was… annoying.

She talked too much, leaving no room for silence. When she finally stopped, the air felt heavy, almost suffocating.

He set down his chopsticks and stared at the empty bowl, contemplating for the first time whether he should put it in the kitchen sink. After all, she wasn’t Auntie Liu, who had taken care of him since childhood.

His frown deepened. He knew his current mental state wasn’t normal—he was easily irritable, and his thoughts tended to spiral into negativity. While part of him felt like he didn’t belong in this world, another small corner of his mind kept wondering if he should wash the bowl.

…

Finally, he grew frustrated.

Barefoot, he walked away from the spot that was giving him a headache. As he passed the computer desk, he detoured to turn on the surveillance monitor.

The room brightened slightly with the glow of the screen, and the stagnant air seemed to lighten as the sounds of Chi Zhihan cleaning up pots and pans across the hall filtered in.

Qi Cheng curled up in the recliner behind the computer, pursing his lips as he stared at the other dark monitors.

He really looked like a monster.

His eyes were bright, his face pale, and his lips tinged with purple from lack of oxygen. His messy hair covered half his face. He reached up to tug at a strand, pulling it hard.

The pain made him hiss.

Then, he was startled by the fact that he could feel pain in this state, staring blankly with wide eyes.

“Oh! You turned on the camera?” Chi Zhihan’s face suddenly filled the screen, magnified. Her skin was flawless, with a healthy pink glow, and her long eyelashes cast shadows on her cheeks, visible even through the high-definition camera.

Qi Cheng stared blankly.

His mind was buzzing with noise. The obsession over whether to wash the bowl was still there, as was his irritation and the question of why he could feel pain. Now, a strange new emotion crept in.

He wanted to poke Chi Zhihan’s soft-looking cheek with his finger.

Why… did he feel this way?

Was it because her face looked so white and soft?

Was he still hungry? Or was he craving noodles?

“You must be done eating by now, right? I’ll come over to clean up the dishes,” Chi Zhihan said after the camera remained unresponsive for a while. She checked the time and headed for the door.

She said she was coming to wash the dishes.

Qi Cheng’s already chaotic mind unconsciously added this new piece of information, and his eyes suddenly widened.

He quickly stood up, the recliner creaking loudly from the sudden movement.

In the darkness, only a tall, lanky figure could be seen quickly darting back to the bed, curling up into his original position.

The sudden movement, combined with a day without food and the dehydration from his episode, left Qi Cheng gasping, his eyes wide with fear.

What… was happening to him?