Chapter 23

Qi Cheng didn’t respond to her. He curled up under the blanket, retreating into the familiar safety of his usual posture.

Before this, he had always assumed Chi Zhihan already knew what he looked like. There were photos of him from his healthier days in his room, and Chi Zhihan had picked them up and looked at them while moving around his space.

That day when she suddenly barged in and their eyes met, he thought she had already seen his face clearly.

But she hadn’t.

He sometimes found it hard to understand Chi Zhihan’s persistence. At the beginning, Qi Ning had repeatedly warned her not to talk to him, but she couldn’t help herself and did so anyway. Later, Qi Peng had reminded her not to look around when delivering meals, and she had followed the instructions perfectly, only realizing afterward that something felt off. Yet, the one rule about not seeing his face—she had adhered to it strictly. Despite countless opportunities to interact, she had never tried to break it.

And then, when she finally saw him, her reaction was as if she had seen a ghost.

Though he had to admit, he did look like a ghost—pale-faced, lips devoid of color. When he was feeling better, he used to exercise every afternoon, but recently, he had completely neglected that. The medication for depression had a side effect of weight gain, and he suspected he might have put on some weight.

To have a calm conversation with him, she had moved to his back.

Every time a new topic came up, if he so much as glanced at her, her eager expression would instantly turn blank.

It was too obvious, and she made no effort to hide it. Even though it hurt him, he didn’t know how to defend himself.

He could tell that she had been trying hard to find topics to talk about these past few days, only to retreat again. After a few rounds of this, he suddenly felt disheartened.

Chi Zhihan’s presence had brought about a strange improvement in his mental state. He had looked up a lot of information and felt that the most fitting explanation was that he had come to see her as a companion.

At first, it was because her appearance aligned with his aesthetic preferences. Later, it was because, despite her chatter, she always managed to understand him perfectly, even through the corridor, even when the camera remained still. So, he began to pay attention to this girl, until one day, while painting late into the night, he saw her sitting motionless at the dining table in her pajamas, crying silently, mouth open, no tears, but with a despair that mirrored his own.

He felt he could understand her, and even hoped that he could use the psychological knowledge he had accumulated over the years to help her.

But meeting her in person seemed to have disrupted that balance.

Chi Zhihan was a sensitive girl. She seemed careless and prone to causing trouble, but when it came to handling things, she was meticulous and thorough.

Yet, even someone with such a personality couldn’t hide her emotions upon seeing him.

He was a monster.

A monster beyond redemption, only fit to hide in the darkness.

…

Feeling the blanket being tugged twice, Qi Cheng pursed his lips and remained still.

Then it was tugged again, this time more forcefully, letting a sliver of light into his cocoon.

He felt a pang of grievance, even a sense of betrayal by his companion, so he closed his eyes and let the woman, who didn’t know when to stop, tug away his sense of security.

“You’re on an IV!” he heard her voice, frantic. “Look, the blood is flowing backward!”

What did it have to do with her? Qi Cheng, with his eyes closed, felt even more aggrieved.

But he was also puzzled. Chi Zhihan’s current emotions were exactly the kind he feared the most—on the verge of anger, filled with negativity.

So why wasn’t he afraid? In fact, he even felt a bit of anticipation.

A soft, warm touch brushed against his arm. With his eyes closed, he felt Chi Zhihan exert some force to make him lie flat.

“You deserve the pain,” he heard her mutter angrily.

There should have been a burning sensation. If he opened his eyes, he should have seen the skin she had touched slowly splitting open, revealing the bloody muscle fibers beneath.

But…

There was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Qi Cheng opened his eyes in confusion.

Chi Zhihan was standing by the bed, breaking what he considered a safe distance, one hand holding his right hand, the other raising the IV bottle higher.

She wasn’t paying attention to him, just focused on trying to get the blood that had flowed back into the tube to go back in.

She was indeed holding his hand.

But why didn’t it hurt?

“You’re a patient,” he heard her scold him seriously. “After two days without food or water, you should be weak and powerless.”

He felt his body stiffen, the sensation of her hand holding his becoming more and more pronounced.

A normal person’s palm was soft and dry, not like his, often cold and clammy with sweat.

Why wasn’t there any burning sensation?

“Your appearance is indeed startling, but not in the way you think,” Chi Zhihan suddenly leaned closer, her nose almost touching his, making his heart clench and his breath hitch, his eyes losing focus from the tension.

“Your looks could enchant anyone, you know?” Chi Zhihan’s voice carried a hint of helplessness. “I don’t want to look at you because I need to maintain my rationality as a human being, not like now, pressing your hand, unable to control the urge of wanting to take advantage of you.”

The Domineering Prince and the Clever Maid..

Qi Cheng’s mind was in chaos, recalling the title of a book.

And then he felt that Chi Zhihan’s gaze right now somewhat resembled that of the domineering prince.

“No pain?” Chi Zhihan seemed to realize she had been holding Qi Cheng’s hand for a while, and his expression was too calm.

“…” Feeling that Chi Zhihan had finally returned to normal, Qi Cheng shook his head.

“I’m holding your hand,” she said, pulling his right hand up to his face. “No pain?”

Qi Cheng knew that her question made him focus on the sensation again. It was still the warmth of her palm, and this time, he could even feel the faint pulse where their skin touched.

“No pain,” he heard himself answer firmly.

“…” Chi Zhihan seemed startled, and then she did something unexpected—she placed her other hand on his forehead.

…

Qi Cheng had to admit that most of the time, he had no idea what Chi Zhihan was trying to do.

“No pain?” Chi Zhihan was starting to sound like a parrot, repeating the same words over and over.

She had held his hand, touched his forehead, but Qi Cheng’s expression, aside from surprise, remained calm.

“…” Qi Cheng thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“Wait a second,” Chi Zhihan quickly let go of both hands and rushed out in her slippers.

Just now, he really hadn’t felt any pain.

But the moment Chi Zhihan ran out to find the nurse, the places she had touched suddenly began to hurt.

“Dr. Zhao and Dr. Li aren’t here,” Chi Zhihan’s voice came faintly from across the hall, as she hadn’t closed the door.

“The IV has painkillers in it, so of course it dulls the pain,” the nurse, who seemed to be on good terms with Chi Zhihan, replied with a laugh.

“But does it work on phantom pain too?” Chi Zhihan sounded uncertain.

“Maybe? Something like psychological suggestion?” The nurse’s tone was equally unsure.

It was a completely unprofessional conversation. To avoid putting pressure on Qi Cheng, the medical staff around him usually weren’t psychology specialists.

Not getting a satisfactory answer, Chi Zhihan rushed back, frowning as she thought about calling Dr. Zhao.

“It’s starting to hurt,” Qi Cheng solved her dilemma for her, smiling bitterly.

Chi Zhihan paused her phone call and looked at Qi Cheng, who was half-lying on the bed, his brows furrowed, his nostrils flaring slightly. The blanket she had tugged aside earlier was still there, and he made no move to pull it back.

After two days without food or water, he looked much weaker, lying there, giving her a bitter smile, as if he had no strength left.

It was as if, even after being bullied by her, all he could do was smile at her like this, with a hint of pleading.

Because of his appearance, she had been sulking for days, and he could feel it. He had felt wronged and had responded with passive resistance, but in the end, he could only smile at her like this, bitterly.

“Does it hurt a lot?” Chi Zhihan’s heart began to ache, thinking of his possessiveness, of the hands that had gripped the blanket tightly when he was still a shadow, afraid of being seen.

It did hurt.

Belatedly, his right hand began to feel the phantom sensation of being sliced open, the skin where her warm palm had touched slowly splitting under an invisible knife.

He hadn’t taken the medication that controlled his hallucinations for a while.

So the sensation of being cut open felt especially real.

But she was close to him, her round eyes fixed on his face, her pink lips moving, her body carrying a faint fruity scent.

“Are you feeling bad?” She leaned even closer this time.

The pain turned his vision red, but he felt himself shake his head.

“It’s okay,” his voice was hoarse, weak from the pain.

Chi Zhihan paused, sighed deeply, then bent down to straighten the blanket she had tugged aside earlier, tucking it up to his neck.

“Don’t cover your face, it’s bad for breathing,” she said, looking at him with a hint of helplessness.

Then she sat back in the beanbag chair she had been using for the past two days, which she had brought from who knows where.

“Qi Cheng, your looks…” After enduring another wave of phantom pain, he heard her say, “I was startled because you look nothing like what I imagined a patient would look like.”

“Being locked in this house for ten years, I imagined someone thin, a bit older, unable to speak, maybe even hunched over—a reclusive figure,” Chi Zhihan’s voice was always clear, but when she spoke seriously, her tone deepened, making her sound sincere.

He listened intently, afraid to miss a single word, and because he was so focused, the phantom sensation of being sliced open began to fade.

“But you’re not like that. You’re too good-looking, the kind of looks even girls would envy,” Chi Zhihan paused, then chuckled. “So I felt uncomfortable.”

“It’s strange. If you were the patient I had imagined, I think I would have felt more at ease. But the way you look now makes me feel like I’m the one taking advantage by caring for you,” Chi Zhihan finished and looked up, seeing Qi Cheng staring at her in a daze.

“No more pain?” His brows were no longer furrowed, and the corners of his eyes weren’t red from holding back the pain.

Qi Cheng shook his head.

“See, with that expression and your face, it looks like I’m bullying you,” Chi Zhihan pouted, still a bit resentful. “It’s so frustrating…”  

“You…” Qi Cheng coughed, his face slightly red, but his tone even more innocent. “Are bullying me…”