Chapter 70

**Chapter 70**

Qi Yanyu, I swear I’ll get you out of here.

Just give me the word.

Jiang Tiyan rubbed his hand, rubbing the scar on his palm over and over.

Qi Muyao’s gonna kill you.

What are we gonna do?

Why won’t you even ask for help?

You got some kinda death-if-you-speak curse or something?

Jiang Tiyan glanced up at the vital signs monitor again, watching the fluctuating heartbeat line—his own heart keeping time with those jagged peaks.

If he’d just stop dating, wouldn’t he be okay? The damage would be minimal. The key is to keep him away from Qi Muyao.

But why doesn’t he know that? Is it that he’s been taking it so long he forgot how to fight back?

His fingertips moved slightly upward, massaging Qi Yanyu’s wrist. With just his thumb and forefinger forming a circle, he could encircle Qi Yanyu’s wrist—with room to spare.

Jiang Tiyan’s chest tightened slightly as he lowered his gaze, drinking him in.

Can’t you beg?

Can’t you run?

Can’t you pretend to be obedient?

Can’t you just not date men, huh?

His fingers released Qi Yanyu’s wrist and brushed against the sleeping man’s neck. Casually, he used his fingertips to push aside the loose hospital gown, peeling the fabric back just enough to see—only to reveal this brutal, rope-like scar across his shoulder.

To Jiang Tiyan, it looked like he had been whipped—like some burning snake had wrapped itself around Qi Yanyu’s frail shoulder.

Jiang Tiyan’s breath caught. With his other hand, he pulled aside the fabric on the opposite shoulder—only to find another terrifying whip-like scar there as well.

Acting on impulse, he lifted Qi Yanyu’s clothes further and saw yet another long scar across his stomach.

Where the hell did all these scars come from? Jiang Tiyan worried that turning him might worsen his condition. Common sense stopped him from flipping Qi Yanyu over.

The thought hit him—he couldn’t provoke Qi Muyao. What if Qi Yanyu got beaten even worse?

He needed to stash Qi Yanyu somewhere safe.

But could he really afford to keep him? He had money. He could manage.

Right now, the most important thing was to get through to this man—to make him agree to escape with him.

But what if Qi Yanyu didn’t want to run?

What if Qi Yanyu was actually willing to die like this? What then?

Jiang Tiyan thought about it and barked a hollow laugh. Why should he care? The idiot brought this on himself.

Yet no matter which way he turned it, his thoughts always circled back to the same starting point—that day, he was the one who sent Qi Yanyu, who had long cut ties with the Qi family, right back to Qi Muyao.

He planted the seeds of this.

If he hadn't done that thing, he wouldn't have needed to care about Qi Yanyu at all.

Jiang Tiyan's eyes were pitch dark, his breathing ragged, as if teetering on despair.

His knuckles barely suppressed their trembling as he straightened Qi Yanyu’s clothes, restoring them to order.

Should he feel angry now?

What should he do?

What could he do?

His eyelashes lowered, concealing the bitterness in his gaze. His strikingly handsome face was cold, betraying his frozen emotions.

When Qi Yanyu woke up, he saw what looked like a statue sitting beside him.

Thinking it was Qi Muyao, he struggled against the lingering pain after the painkillers wore off, forcing his heavy eyelids open just slightly.

The man's stony face looked even worse than his own.

Qi Yanyu thought it was Qi Muyao, figuring it matched his usual temperament—learning he had been in a relationship with a man, his face twisted with that familiar hatred, his sharp, cold eyes fixed on him.

As if the moment he woke up, a furious slap would come crashing down.

Let me die.

I just want to die completely.

Never want to be human again, not in this life or the next.

Being transmigrated into this story only makes my suffering worse.

The chance to transmigrate should go to someone with protagonist's luck who can change their fate.

It shouldn't be wasted on someone like me.

I just wanna die. To die completely. With no coming back.

When will it end? If I suffer through all the awful plot points, can I die then?

Then hurry it up, please. Bring the death faster. Bring the pain quicker.

Maybe there is no end at all.

---

Jiang Tiyan watched in silence as the person on the hospital bed seemed to open his eyes. If he hadn’t just been wrestling with himself, he would’ve run for a doctor.

Now, he just stood there, hollow, his voice rough as he asked, "Do you want some water?"

"I want to die, Qi Muyao."

Qi Yanyu leaned against the pillow, not even looking Jiang Tiyan’s way, his eyes glazed over, staring blankly at the white ceiling.

If I could just die cleanly, that'd be my only happiness.

"What did you just say?" "I want to die."

"What’s your illness?"

Qi Yanyu shifted his eyes slightly, though not toward Jiang Tiyan—but rather toward the IV drip.

*"Drip... drip..." like a countdown to his fate.*

To be human is to be worthless—like weeds, like mud.

He lifted a trembling hand and pulled out the needle embedded in its back.

Jiang Tiyan immediately stood up and grabbed Qi Yanyu’s IV hand, but it was too late—he could only watch as blood droplets sprayed from the back of his hand. With his other hand, he pushed aside Qi Yanyu’s already freed arm and saw the ghastly smile on his face.

The man on the bed had eyes black and hollow as a void, unfocused, numb, depthless like an abyss, staring at him:

*"You’re satisfied. So am I."*

His face was sickly pale, never touched by color.

His lips bore a faded purple tint, the aftermath of a heart attack, though no longer obvious.

His eyes were black, lifeless, holding only a chilling, death-ready resolve.

"Will you… come with me?" Jiang Tiyan asked, his heart hammering loud enough to shatter eardrums. He couldn’t hear his own voice, but he knew what he was saying.

*"I’ll take you away from here." Completely. Forever.*

"Qi Yanyu."

Qi Yanyu’s eyes seemed to focus at last, shifting toward the person gripping the barely-there strength in his hands.

He noticed his features weren’t as ice-carved and sharp as Qi Muyao’s. Instead, youthful, beautiful, with a razor’s-edge coldness.

"I’ll take you away."

Qi Yanyu stared at him for several minutes, his eyes slowly regaining the normal function of a human being.

"Jiang… Jiang…"

He was trying to say his name. Jiang Tiyan glanced slightly downward, watching as pale pink blood continued to well from the back of Qi Yanyu’s hand, thin as water.

"You…"

"I’ll carry you out," Jiang Tiyan had already begun wiping the blood from his hand, then moved as if to help him up from the bed. It seemed he had a plan—if he could just get Qi Yanyu downstairs into the car where his driver waited, if they could escape together, he could save Qi Yanyu completely.

"My car is downstairs. I’ll take you there." Once downstairs, you’ll be *free*.

If he could just get Qi Yanyu out of here, he could whisk him away from Kanbei City, to a place where Qi Muyao would never find him.

"Where does it hurt?" Jiang Tiyan still didn’t know about his heart condition.

Just as Jiang Tiyan moved to pull Qi Yanyu’s arm around his neck, preparing to carry him—

Qi Yanyu’s fingers suddenly dug into his hand with surprising force. The frailty of his grip was nothing to Jiang Tiyan, like a moth’s touch. Wondering what Qi Yanyu intended, he turned his head. Though his eyes remained dull, his voice was gentle as he asked, "What is it?"

"Get out…"

Jiang Tiyan didn’t catch it clearly. His gaze lowered, noticing the unbuttoned hospital gown and the few drops of pale pink blood staining Qi Yanyu’s cheeks, making him look like a cracked music-box prince. His thumb smeared the blood from Qi Yanyu’s face. "Hmm?"

"Get out… you… why… here…"

Jiang Tiyan was momentarily distracted, but only for half a second. He had expected Qi Yanyu's rejection.

He faintly curled his lips into a cold smile and muttered under his breath, "Goddammit, it's all my fault." Though he cursed, his eyes held a cold but oddly soft light as he gazed at Qi Yanyu, so sick he was barely conscious.

Jiang Tiyan told himself not to be rash—acting on impulse could end up killing Qi Yanyu.

He let go of Qi Yanyu, walked over to the ward door, and opened it. Qi Muyao's men were waiting right outside. He shut the door again and returned to Qi Yanyu’s side. He needed to tell him he’d help—if only the bastard would trust him.

As he stepped back beside the bed, Jiang Tiyan reached for the hand Qi Yanyu had yanked the IV from, about to check if it was still bleeding.

Then, unintentionally, he noticed something shimmering hanging from Qi Yanyu’s chin.

Jiang Tiyan’s heart had already been teetering like a horse at the edge of a cliff—but now it stumbled and fell.

His dull eyes, once like a murky, stagnant pond, had thought they'd never ripple again. Only because he owed Qi Yanyu—that was all—had he been clingy as hell.

But when his gaze landed on Qi Yanyu’s face, glistening with tears, a panic like he’d never known shattered through his carefully built walls of detachment.

"Where… where does it hurt?" Jiang Tiyan rarely saw his old friend cry.

This might have been the first time.

A grown man sobbing should’ve looked pathetic.

Yet Jiang Tiyan felt as if an invisible blade was tearing his heart apart.

Shredded. A goddamn bloody pulp.

Frantically, he grabbed both of Qi Yanyu’s hands, inspecting them—the scabs had peeled off, revealing smooth pink scars. What about his shoulders? Pulling aside the collar of his gown, he saw the same pale pink scar. And his back?

Frantic, he barked, "Where did he hit you? Where the hell does it hurt?"

"Say something!"

The patient stayed silent, making the star roughly yank open his clothes to see his back.

"...You're torturing me."

Jiang Tiyan thought he heard a reply different from what he’d imagined—

"That what gets you off?"

He froze mid-motion, his hands halting before exposing the scars. His pale eyes widened, cold with shock.

"I'm torturing you?"

He let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "I’m worse than Qi Muyao?"

If it weren’t for him, Jiang Tiyan, why would he even be here?

If it weren’t for him snitching to Qi Muyao, how would Qi Muyao have come straight to the school to “grab” him?

"You’re both fucking terrible," Qi Yanyu whispered weakly, voice thin but clear, laced with barely concealed scorn.

"Oh," Jiang Tiyan said flatly. He was used to being misunderstood, twisted, hated by this man. But even with that familiarity, those words ignited a white-hot rage inside him. His eyes flared with fury. With his usual mocking slowness, he tugged his lips into an icy smirk. "Qi Yanyu, your shit luck didn't come from nowhere. Every ounce of pain you've felt—you fucking asked for it, motherfucker."