Chapter 50 Rib Perception

Chapter 50: The Perception of a Rib

Shen Zongnian stayed put, sitting by the bedside and watching over him.

Tan Youming sat cross-legged, head bowed, engrossed in his phone. His dark bangs fell over his forehead, his lashes long—a scene that had once been utterly ordinary now felt extraordinarily precious.

Tan Youming turned on his phone, catching up on all the missed messages from the past few days. For nearly two months, he scrolled through records of who Shen Zongnian had met, what they’d talked about, where they’d gone, what matters they’d discussed. It was part surveillance, part reconnection.

“What kind of riddles were you and Zhao Shengge speaking?” Tan Youming demanded, flipping through the chat history. “Was that even human language?” He couldn’t make sense of a single sentence.

Shen Zongnian replied calmly, “It’s company business.” He was secretly relieved that they both found texting troublesome and usually handled matters over the phone.

“Why does Qiao Rui have so many things to report to you every day?” Tan Youming challenged, always ready to pick a fight. “Does Huantu not have an internal system? Or is the work email broken? What’s the idea behind sending a proposal past 11 p.m.?”

“...” Shen Zongnian started to speak. Unless it was urgent, he hadn’t responded to the rest, but he still said, “I’ll remind him to be more mindful.”

Tan Youming felt like he’d punched a cotton ball. He swiped through the phone fiercely, like a judge flipping through a ledger of fates, decreeing life and death with each entry. “Why are you always out carousing with Jiang Ying? What kind of places are you even going to?”

While he’d been sinking into despair day after day, Shen Zongnian had been out enjoying himself every night.

“What were you two trying to do?”

Shen Zongnian sighed. “I was asking him to help raise funds to buy Guangxun.”

Tan Youming was hit by his own words a second time. He said sarcastically, “So, are you still buying it?”

“Sell it if that’s what you want,” Shen Zongnian said firmly, looking straight at him. “I won’t leave again.”

Tan Youming didn’t know whether to believe him. He just turned his head toward the window and stayed silent.

Shen Zongnian pursed his lips.

At noon, the driver came to bring lunch. Guan Kezhi had asked the housekeeper to prepare a slow-cooked soup and said she and Tan Zhongshan would visit in the afternoon.

Tan Youming didn’t eat much.

Shen Zongnian frowned as he looked at Tan Youming’s thinner profile. “Tan Youming, have you been eating properly?”

Tan Youming, who had been focused on his meal, was taken aback by the scolding. He looked up in confusion, mouth still full, and rolled his eyes. “You were about to go overseas—why do you care if I’ve been eating properly?”

“...”

“Why did you bring this?” Tan Youming finished his soup and reached for the large panda stuffed animal. Its fur was still clean and new-looking—it was Shen Zongnian’s own.

“You can hold it while you sleep tonight.” Tan Youming had slept restlessly the night before, so Shen Zongnian had asked the driver to bring a change of clothes from home and brought the panda along.

Tan Youming petted the panda’s belly a couple of times before setting it aside. “It’ll get dirty if I take it out.”

Shen Zongnian opened a box of fruit. “I’ll wash it.”

Tan Youming said with a dismissive smile. “Washing it will make it shed fur.”

Shen Zongnian looked up. “I’ll hand-wash it.”

Tan Youming played with the panda’s tail lightly. “It won’t be the same after washing.”

Shen Zongnian ladled some soup into a bowl and handed it to him, without changing expression as he met Tan Youming’s gaze. “I can wash it until it’s good as new.”

Tan Youming looked up to meet Shen Zongnian’s stare and smiled.

He wasn’t doing it on purpose—or maybe, deep down, he was.

He was being deliberately difficult, purposely provoking, purposely testing—testing whether his old privileges still held, testing whether Shen Zongnian had truly returned to his side, testing whether anything had changed from before.

It also felt like a form of payback. Tan Youming was generous and open-minded with everyone else, but with Shen Zongnian, he nitpicked over every little thing. He had to bring it up again and again, emphasize it repeatedly—that it was Shen Zongnian who had distanced himself first, Shen Zongnian who had ignored him, Shen Zongnian who had wronged him.

Shen Zongnian owed him. No matter how much Tan Youming gave him a hard time, it wasn’t excessive.

Tan Youming smiled with such nonchalance that even his boyish canine teeth seemed wicked. He said softly, “Fine. If it’s not exactly the same as before, I won’t want it.”

Shen Zongnian’s hand tightened slightly. He looked at Tan Youming with a trace of worry and murmured, “Mm.”

After eating and drinking his fill, Tan Youming started playing games. Shen Zongnian only allowed four rounds before urging, “Go take a nap.”

Tan Youming pretended not to hear. Shen Zongnian simply turned off the light and confiscated the gaming device.

“...”

Feeling bored, Tan Youming lay on the bed, hands behind his head, his gaze unconsciously settling on Shen Zongnian again.

Truthfully, he didn’t want to sleep at all. If he closed his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to see Shen Zongnian. He didn’t trust him and hated the emptiness that came with waking up startled, hated the illusion of a beautiful dream.

Shen Zongnian frowned slightly, sat by the bedside, and let Tan Youming keep watching him. “Sleep. I won’t leave.”

Tan Youming didn’t respond, but surrounded by that familiar presence, his body slowly calmed down. His gaze, however, remained stubborn, like someone parched finally finding water—even as drowsiness set in, he fought to keep his eyes open.

The sight of Shen Zongnian bowing his head to reply to work emails felt both familiar and strange. He was as handsome, stern, and distant as before, yet somehow different.

Where exactly? It was hard to say.

His heart beat oddly clear, strangely.

Perhaps it was because they had always been inseparable before, taking everything for granted, believing it would remain unchanged until the end of the world. Only after losing and regaining it could he so keenly sense those subtle differences.

Shen Zongnian’s presence alone made everything different.

No matter how much Tan Youming pretended to be cold or resistant, he couldn’t deceive himself.

Shen Zongnian was like a bone that had grown within his body. When things were good, he couldn’t even feel it—didn’t know where it was, what shape it took, how long or short it was. But when it truly broke or moved out of place, the pain was sudden and unbearable.

With Shen Zongnian here, Tan Youming felt his ribs slip back into place, his flesh heal, his soul returning home once more.

Deep down, he knew he didn’t really need to stay in the hospital any longer.

When Tan Youming finally drifted into a hazy sleep, Shen Zongnian set down his tablet and turned to gaze at his peaceful face, even catching a faint, silly smile—perhaps he was dreaming of something pleasant.

This was good enough.

Tan Youming was exhausted. He plunged into dreams and slept deeply, waking up fully rested. But when he opened his eyes, Shen Zongnian was gone.

The empty hospital room left him disoriented. He began to wonder if Shen Zongnian himself was just a beautiful dream he’d conjured up. His heart sank like a stone thrown into water, plummeting endlessly.

The door pushed open from the outside. Shen Zongnian suddenly met a pair of cold eyes and paused for a moment.

Tan Youming sneered, “If you don’t want to stay here, then leave.”

Shen Zongnian frowned slightly. He set down the medical scans he’d just retrieved and walked to the bedside. “That’s not it,” he said, pouring a glass of water. “The doctor wanted to speak with family. Come, drink some water. Are you feeling unwell anywhere? The doctor said he’ll bring someone for rounds soon.”

Tan Youming acted like he didn't hear.

Shen Zongnian frowned and was about to scold him, but after a moment’s thought, he said a bit awkwardly, “I apologize, alright?”

Tan Youming leaned back, his eyes fixed intently on Shen Zongnian. “Apologize for what?”

Shen Zongnian felt like Tan Youming was making him jumpy too. “I won’t let you open your eyes and find me not there again.”

Tan Youming gave a sarcastic laugh. “Don’t force yourself if it’s too hard.”

Shen Zongnian’s expression was calm but patient. “I’m not forcing myself.”

Then Tan Youming slowly lowered his head and took a sip of water from the cup Shen Zongnian was holding. He seemed lost in thought, falling silent for a moment before suddenly reaching out to touch Shen Zongnian’s chest. Shen Zongnian grabbed his wrist to stop him. “What’s wrong?”

Tan Youming asked softly, “Does it hurt?”—meaning the spot where he had kicked Shen Zongnian.

Shen Zongnian looked down and met his gaze. The distance was so close that Shen Zongnian’s reflection filled Tan Youming’s dark pupils. It didn’t actually hurt—he knew Tan Youming’s strength, and that kick hadn’t been forceful at all.

But he wasn’t sure whether Tan Youming wanted to hear that it hurt or not. After a brief standoff, Shen Zongnian whispered, “A little.”

Tan Youming wasn’t without sympathy, but he pressed his lips together and said, “Serves you right.”

Shen Zongnian agreed. “Yeah.”

Tan Youming grabbed his collar and pulled him closer, about to warn him that if it happened again, the pain would be worse. Just then, there was a knock at the door, and the doctor entered with assistants and students for rounds.

“All vital signs are normal, and the indicators look good,” the doctor said cautiously. “Mr. Tan has a strong constitution, so there’s no need to worry excessively. Just pay attention to managing your emotions, mental health, and stress, drink less alcohol, and exercise more.”

Tan Youming already felt fine—the moment Shen Zongnian returned, he felt completely better. He tried to seize the opportunity. “Then let’s discharge today. I feel like I could run a marathon right now.”

Shen Zongnian ignored him, holding him still as he looked at the doctor. The doctor said tactfully, “If it’s not urgent, I’d recommend staying for another day or two for observation and rest. After discharge, avoid overexertion—take it step by step and give your body time to adjust.”

Tan Youming wanted to argue further, but Shen Zongnian put his foot down. “Doctor, we’ll stay for two more days.”

The doctor quickly arranged for someone to take care of the paperwork, and Tan Youming lost any say in the matter. Once everyone left, he rolled his eyes and started complaining, “Shen Zongnian, are you getting back at me under the guise of doing your job? You’re not here to be my dog—you’re purely treating me like a dog.”

No air conditioning allowed, meals couldn’t be skipped, getting out of bed required permission—Shen Zongnian was being utterly autocratic. Tan Youming couldn’t even decide the thickness of his own socks.

This is all backwards—he was fed up.

“Mm,” Shen Zongnian said expressionlessly, in a no-nonsense tone. “You’re a sick cat right now. Once you’re better, we can talk about who’s the dog.”

When Guan Kezhi and Tan Zhongshan arrived, one was reviewing documents, the other replying to work emails.

The documents were delivered by Yang Shiyan. Though there weren’t many, Guan Kezhi still had something to say. “Why are you working again?”

Tan Youming said energetically, “I’ve been fine for a while. I could be discharged any minute.”

“You have no say—listen to the doctor,” she decreed. “Nianzi, keep an eye on him. Don’t let him act recklessly. After discharge, take him directly back to the old house to recuperate for a while.”

“Alright.”

Tan Youming was completely arranged, complaining that patients had no rights.

Tan Zhongshan, seeing him in good spirits, chuckled. “Then hurry up and get better.”

Tan Youming exclaimed, “It’s so inconvenient for me to commute from the old house.”

“There’s a driver,” Guan Kezhi said, along with housekeepers and nutritionists—everything would be taken care of. After applying pressure, she added an incentive. “Duole is there too.”

Tan Youming bit. “Why is she there?” Tan Duole was Tan Youming’s niece, the daughter of his eldest cousin, Tan Yulin.

“Yulin is getting a divorce,” Guan Kezhi said, a hint of coldness in her expression. “Her husband cheated.”

Tan Youming frowned, finally remembering the man in Armani he’d seen at Yingchi with the woman in a qipao—Ceng Shaohui, who was about to become his ex-brother-in-law.

Guan Kezhi sighed. “Yulin is busy preparing for the lawsuit. The Zeng family’s servants were negligent—they didn’t notice the child had a fever for a whole day.”

“Why not send her to her maternal grandparents?” Tan Youming’s uncle wasn’t a major shareholder in Pinghai either—more of a figurehead living off dividends and trusts. The Zeng family, however, were longstanding elites at their peak—the best match they could have hoped for.

Tan Zhongshan said, “They don’t support Yulin’s divorce.”

Tan Youming, never one to hold back, cursed even his elders. “What’s their problem?”

“I said I’d take Duole home. Hoping for you to have a kid for me to play with is slower than adopting a ready-made one.”

Tan Youming played dumb and tried to change the subject. “I want to play too. I’ll be discharged tomorrow.”

Nobody was listening to him. Shen Zongnian stayed by his side the entire time.

Over the next two days, the hospital room turned into an office. Zhong Manqing and Yang Shiyan, who delivered documents, ran into each other in the elevator, exchanging polite but slightly awkward smiles.

Their respective bosses had been buyer and seller in the acquisition market just yesterday—today, one was sick, the other playing nurse.

Shen Zongnian strictly controlled Tan Youming’s work hours. “Go rest.”

“Let me finish reviewing this proposal,” Tan Youming said, all business during work, not his usual laid-back self. “I need to go over the Maritime Trade Association matters with Yang Shiyan today. Several VPs are urgently looking for me too—it can’t wait any longer.”

Shen Zongnian looked at his focused profile, thought for a moment, and said, “Tan Youming.”

“Hmm?” Tan Youming looked up.

Shen Zongnian’s gaze returned to his laptop as he moved the mouse, casually. “Have you ever considered trying therapy?”