Chapter 103 I Don’t Want You Anymore

Chapter 103: I Don’t Want You Anymore

Outside, people were busily arranging Shen Wenzhou’s funeral rites.

“Shen Ci.” Shen Shiyan whispered close to Shen Ci’s ear, so softly that only they could hear, “You need to leave the country.”

Shen Ci froze, his body trembling, thinking he had misheard.

“Listen to me, go abroad. Stay away from me for now.” Shen Shiyan’s tone was gentle, as if persuading him, coaxing him to leave, yet his words carried an unyielding resolve.

Footsteps sounded at the entrance of the ancestral hall, but Shen Ci couldn’t hear them. With his back turned, he couldn’t see either. In that moment, it felt as though he had lost all sensory perception.

Shen Shiyan lifted his gaze, his eyes cold as they fixed on Shen Siyu, who was not far away.

Shen Siyu raised his right hand behind Shen Ci’s back, making a gun gesture, a silent, smug smile on his face.

“Blame me, okay?” Shen Ci hugged him tighter. “Hit me, curse me—I’ll take anything...”

“Just don’t abandon me...” His voice was a low, desperate plea.

Shen Shiyan’s heart ached. Shen Siyu was still watching from afar. He closed his eyes, let his hands slide down from Shen Ci’s back, and reached behind to pry apart Shen Ci’s tightly clasped arms around his waist.

“Listen to me, go abroad.” Shen Shiyan’s voice was barely a whisper.

He suddenly pulled harder. Shen Ci’s wrists were gripped in his palms, the skin and tendons pulled painfully as they struggled. The red prayer beads rubbed and pressed against his wrist bones, as if they might break the bones.

“I’m not letting go.” Shen Ci stubbornly resisted. “I’m not afraid of pain. I know this is all my fault...”

Seeing Shen Siyu about to get closer, Shen Shiyan exerted even more strength, not caring if he hurt Shen Ci.

“Brother, please...” Shen Ci didn’t know how else to apologize or how to make him stay.

“I really didn’t mean to fall asleep. You can ignore me forever... But you said it yourself—you would never, ever abandon me, that you’d always be with me...”

His sobs came in broken fragments.

“Shen Shiyan, please, don’t abandon me.”

Shen Shiyan’s movements paused for a second—just one second.

As Shen Siyu got closer, Shen Shiyan’s mind held no other thought but to completely separate Shen Ci from this mess. He closed his eyes in despair, his lower lip trembling—

“Shen Ci, I don’t want you anymore.”

Shen Ci, I’m sorry.

“What...?” Shen Ci couldn’t believe his ears.

...Don’t want him anymore.

Shen Shiyan said... he didn’t want him anymore...

The man who’d never said a harsh word to Shen Ci, even when angry, now mercilessly forced apart Shen Ci’s hands, which had lost all strength at the words “I don’t want you anymore.” Shen Shiyan pushed himself up from the ground, barely standing, and turned his head away.

Shen Siyu was right there, but Shen Ci was oblivious. The moment he regained his senses, he struggled to stand and reach for Shen Shiyan, only to have his wrist grabbed and yanked outward. He was rough, without any of the usual tenderness or pity.

The blood on Shen Shiyan’s knees had already soaked through his suit pants. During the short distance he dragged Shen Ci out of the ancestral hall, Shen Shiyan limped with every step.

Shen Ci was flung out with such force that he fell to the ground, unable to steady himself.

He kept his head lowered for a long time, then finally looked up, his eyes red and swollen, at Shen Shiyan’s thin figure standing on the few steps.

“What’s this? Weren’t you always spoiling your young master? Made a mistake today?” Shen Siyu stood behind Shen Shiyan, sneering.

No one acknowledged Shen Siyu’s sarcasm.

Shen Shiyan’s gaze fell on Shen Ci’s purple and blue wrists—wrists he had kissed less than ten days ago. His chest ached, his breathing becoming irregular.

He averted his eyes and, in a voice not too loud, told Shen Ci to get lost.

In his heart, he apologized countless times, each one filled with tears and love.

Shen Ci’s eyes widened. The night wind blew, strands of his long hair sticking to his cheeks, tears falling from his chin.

Shen Shiyan had never used such a harsh word with him before.

Shen Ci’s eyes lifted and then fell again, the sorrow and self-blame swirling in them like tiny needles. One glance and Shen Shiyan felt his body riddled with a thousand wounds.

Suddenly, Shen Ci let out a soft laugh, even as tears still streamed from his eyes. He felt as if he had cried all the tears of a lifetime.

His ankle was twisted. Ignoring the pain, he got up from the ground, his right hand trembling as it reached into his pants pocket. He walked slowly, step by step, toward Shen Shiyan, and pressed the letter—as heavy as a thousand pounds—into Shen Shiyan’s suit pocket.

“If you don’t blame me, do you hate me?” Shen Ci asked in a slow, measured tone, looking as desolate as a dying plant.

Shen Shiyan’s fingers moved. He was already about to step down and pull Shen Ci into his embrace, but he pretended not to hear, turned around, and re-entered the ancestral hall, lowering his head to straighten Zhong Yurong’s already perfect clothes.

Shen Siyu’s taunts rang in his ears. Shen Shiyan pressed his lips together and said nothing. Five or six minutes felt like an eternity.

He tilted his head slightly. The familiar figure was no longer outside the ancestral hall. He let out a sigh of relief, still holding Zhong Yurong’s cold hand in his.

The hole in Shen Shiyan’s heart gaped open again.

“Maybe you could come work for me as an assistant. Jidian needs someone with your background.” Shen Siyu sat down on a prayer mat. “Merge Chonghe into my company, and you’ll be my assistant. I’ll give you resources. Agree, and I might consider letting you off the hook.”

Shen Shiyan looked at Zhong Yurong with a gentle expression, then laughed to himself.

“What are you laughing at? You...”

Shen Shiyan’s lips were pale. His gaze fixed on Shen Siyu’s face, his words seemed to come from hell itself, cold and sinister. “None of you Shens will escape.”

The weather was stifling as summer approached, yet Shen Siyu felt a shiver run down his spine.

Shen Shiyan held Zhong Yurong by the waist, lifted her, and walked out. With every step, his knees scraped against his pants, a pain that was very real.

Her green skirt fluttered in the wind—bright and vivid—until three days later, it became a handful of ashes inside a small square box.

Shen Wenzhou’s coffin was placed in the back hall of the ancestral hall. According to tradition, it was to remain for seven days before burial. But on the fourth night, a thief broke in. Nothing valuable was stolen, but the wreaths and white cloths arranged in the back hall were completely destroyed.

The coffin was wide open. Shen Wenzhou’s burial clothes had vanished without a trace. His withered body lay naked in the coffin, a knife stuck in his chest. No blood flowed—an eerie, ironic sight.

Assistant Li panicked for several days before having another ritual performed.

Shen Shiyan still had to handle most matters. He had returned to his former self—calm expression, steady demeanor, dressed in a pure black suit. But his cheeks were slightly sunken, making him appear even more distant and aloof.

In the dead of night, Shen Shiyan took off the white flower from his lapel and tossed it onto the table. He dialed Shen Sicheng’s number.

It rang three times before being picked up.

“Hello! What is it? Make it quick.” Shen Sicheng’s tone was harsh, laced with anger.

"Is Shen Ci okay?" Shen Shiyan had been speaking little these past few days, his voice still hoarse.

A sound of sneering and teeth grinding came through the receiver. After about half a minute, Shen Sicheng finally said, "Now you remember to fucking ask about Xiao Ci? I'm telling you, he's not okay, not at all!"

Before Shen Shiyan could say anything else, a torrent of accusations came from the other end of the line.

"Shen Shiyan, I know you're hurting that Auntie Zhong is gone, but isn't Xiao Ci hurting too? Why the hell are you taking your anger out on Xiao Ci? Don't tell me you actually think Xiao Ci was asleep that day at the hospital. Don't you fucking know how the Shen family is?!"

After receiving Shen Shiyan's call that day, Shen Sicheng flew back from abroad on his private plane that same day and went straight to Yunjing Mansion.

Shen Ci, who had been bright and lively in his birthday video, was now curled up on Shen Shiyan's bed, applying medicine to his own ankle, his eyes were swollen. Shen Sicheng went over to ask and then learned what had happened at the ancestral hall.

When he heard Shen Ci crying and saying "Shen Shiyan doesn't want me anymore," Shen Sicheng lost all reason and wanted to go find Shen Shiyan to fight him, but Shen Ci stopped him.

"It's been seven years. I've genuinely treated you as a friend, a brother. What are you doing? Sending Xiao Ci abroad? Have you fucking thought about how Xiao Ci feels?"

Shen Shiyan listened quietly as Shen Sicheng vented, cursing and yelling.