Chapter 61 A Festering Wound

Chapter 61: A Bone-Deep Ache

When Li Wangyue opened his eyes, his whole body was sore.

Especially his lower back.

He hadn't been able to sleep all night, a string of half-awake nightmares hitting him one after another.

Every time he moved, the arm around his waist would suddenly tighten, and the low breathing of the man behind him would sink deeper into his neck as he drew closer.

Li Wangyue finally understood that those nights spent in the Ting family villa, waking up with a sore back, weren't due to the bed or the environment—it was because of a person.

He thought Ting Zhenxi had done way more vicious and cold-blooded things to him, but Ting Zhenxi said he hadn't; he just held his brother like this while falling asleep.

He stared at the clear sky outside the window, his heart just as empty.

Last night's heavy rain had washed away all traces.

At some point, the space behind him was empty.

Li Wangyue had been awake all night, but he had no idea when Ting Zhenxi left.

Stunned, he jumped out of bed and rushed out without even putting on his shoes.

The living room was empty, the kitchen was empty, the bathroom was empty too.

The house was empty and spotless, as if no one else had ever been there.

Li Wangyue looked around in a daze and touched his forehead.

Last night felt like some kind of dream.

Was he so scared he was hallucinating? Li Wangyue leaned against the dining table, suddenly feeling an indescribable tightness in his chest.

"Ding."

A new message popped up on his phone.

It broke through his aimless fear and paranoia.

It was from an unknown number, sending a picture of a bowl of silver ear soup.

Li Wangyue tapped the image to zoom in. In the upper left corner, the hand holding the spoon had a pinky ring—that was Zhang Qiaoyuan.

He frantically dialed the number, waiting anxiously for someone to pick up.

The few seconds of ringing made his heart jump into his throat as he grabbed his coat to head out.

The call connected.

Li Wangyue froze in place, his breath stopping.

Silence hung on both ends of the phone.

Until Ting Zhenxi spoke first, his tone relaxed: "I'm at a friend's place. I'll be back later."

Li Wangyue gripped the phone tight: "Are you at Qiaoyuan's place? What are you trying to do? Are you going to poison him? The police will find out—don't do anything stupid…"

His frantic, incoherent panic was met with just a light laugh.

"No." Ting Zhenxi's usual calm, vague reply: "I said I'm hanging out at a friend's for a bit. I'll be back soon. Don't be so clingy."

As soon as he finished, a grumpy voice chimed in from the side: "Who's your friend? Is that how friends act? Look, my cast isn't even off yet, and this guy comes to my place asking for a handout."

It was Zhang Qiaoyuan's voice, and he didn't sound like he was in danger.

Before Li Wangyue could react, a distant grumble came through the phone: "Who's that? Your wife? Didn't know you were whipped—can't even go out without getting checked up on."

Ting Zhenxi didn't respond.

Zhang Qiaoyuan leaned over and yelled into his phone: "I'm a guy, no need to worry."

Li Wangyue, afraid he'd recognize his voice, held the phone farther away and held his breath.

Ting Zhenxi hung up at just the right moment.

Silence filled his ears again. Li Wangyue lowered his arm and slowly let out the breath he'd been holding.

He shook his groggy head and took yesterday's clothes to the wash.

Ting Zhenxi's clothes were also in the pile—the black pant legs still had blood stains, and on closer look, there were scuff marks too.

Wearing clothes like that to the fighting ring, tracking blood all the way back—who knows what was going through his head.

Li Wangyue remembered the trail of footprints and felt a wave of irritation, but when he went to the living room, he found they'd already been cleaned up.

The washing machine hummed on the balcony. It was an old machine; the landlord thought it still worked and wouldn't replace it. Li Wangyue was only renting short-term, so he didn't care.

He'd originally planned to buy the apartment he'd been eyeing after this period, but now it seemed that chance was lost.

Zhang Qiaoyuan had taken some sick leave, saying he'd been in a minor car accident.

He called Li Wangyue, but when he didn't pick up, he thought Li Wangyue was mad, and sent a bunch of apologetic messages, promising over and over he wouldn't do it again.

Zhang Qiaoyuan said he'd been working with someone on a gallery design, but the investor's demands were super picky. He was under a lot of pressure and had no inspiration. A friend had brought him to this place to unwind, he placed a bet, won some money, but still felt unsatisfied, so he got into the ring himself for a couple of rounds. That's how he got hooked.

Pain and scars could make adrenaline spike.

Zhang Qiaoyuan seemed genuinely unsettled, sending messages all night until Li Wangyue replied with a few sympathetic words, and he only fell asleep around three or four in the morning.

But Li Wangyue hadn't touched his own phone at all. It was obvious who had sent those messages mimicking his tone.

He scrolled through the chat history, recalling the days he was kept captive by Ting Zhenxi in the vacation cabin, the fake chat logs with Ji Zhijia that Ting Zhenxi had forged.

Ting Zhenxi imitated his tone to perfection. Even now, looking back, Li Wangyue broke out in a cold sweat.

If Ting Zhenxi wanted to completely imprison him, it would be effortless. He would only need to lie that Li Wangyue had gone abroad, communicate only through text, maybe a video call—and even that could be faked. No one would notice.

Even Li Wangyue himself, looking at the messages "Li Wangyue" had sent, was stunned to the point of hesitation.

This "Li Wangyue" even knew the private matters between him and Ji Zhijia—his speech habits, his thought patterns—all thoroughly understood by Ting Zhenxi.

He remembered the photos in Ting Zhenxi's bedroom, their timeline covering Li Wangyue's entire high school and middle school years.

Perhaps the day he first saw Ting Zhenxi was even earlier.

Li Wangyue had silently watched him for ten years from behind, while Ting Zhenxi had looked down and surveilled him for ten years.

Li Wangyue felt like vomiting again. He quickly put away his phone and went to the balcony to catch his breath.

Luckily, the Zhang Qiaoyuan part was already locked in. The client had already signed off on the trench and load-bearing plans, so we could move forward.

Li Wangyue had to carve out time every week to go to the factory. The team was also reaching out to potential suppliers, making samples, comparing materials, colors, and finishes, having meetings to go over materials, rejecting one after another, then throwing out new ideas in a nonstop brainstorm.

Li Wangyue lugged a big bag of samples the team had gathered, planning to work late at home.

He was gonna work at the office, but...

Li Wangyue popped the trunk and was about to toss the bag in when he caught a glimpse of someone in the front seat from the corner of his eye.

Li Wangyue jumped, and the bag hit the ground with a loud thud.

Ting Zhenxi was watching him through the gap in the seats, his eyes peeking out. In the dim light, there wasn't a single glimmer—just the black of his pupils.

His eyes crinkled, still smiling.

He got out, walked over, bent down, and picked up the stuff one by one for Li Wangyue, and set them somewhere.

"Your car sucks," Ting Zhenxi said, slamming the trunk shut with a loud clatter. "The door lock pops open with a paperclip."

Li Wangyue didn't say a word, glaring at his back.

After he got to the island, he bought a used car to get around and move stuff.

He wanted it fast, so he didn't overthink it. He compared a few, found one that was decent, and bought it, not caring about the wear and tear on the mechanics.

Ting Zhenxi had picked the lock to get in, and now he was blaming the car.

Li Wangyue opened the driver's door, and Ting Zhenxi helped himself to the passenger seat.

"My car sucks, so you don't have to ride in it," Li Wangyue said, turning the key.

"I can't not ride in your car. You're the only driver I trust," Ting Zhenxi said with a smirk, then went back to his phone.

Li Wangyue grabbed the wheel and backed out of the garage.

"...How's Qiaoyuan?" he couldn't help asking.

"Call him that again, and he's dead by tomorrow," Ting Zhenxi said, scrolling on his phone with his head propped on his hand.

Li Wangyue pressed his lips together. "Can you not?"

"No," Ting Zhenxi said flatly. "You're my brother, not his."

"I told you, we're not gonna be brothers much longer," Li Wangyue said, breathing hard, his brow furrowed. "My mom divorced Ting Huayi, so there's no connection anymore. Since you admit that, why do you keep holding onto this?"

"'Cause I'm messed up. I love holding on. Bro, haven't you always let me get away with stuff? You're so good to me, doing everything, even helping me fake an alibi for murder."

"Don't get all high and mighty. You've never treated me like a brother!"

The car screeched to a stop on the side of the road, and Li Wangyue punched the steering wheel.

The cabin went dead silent.

Ting Zhenxi's face was blank. After a second, he reached over and flicked on the hazard lights.

Li Wangyue shut his eyes, breathing deep to calm down.

"Li Wangyue, you really want that label. You've never really let go," Ting Zhenxi said, raising a hand to lightly brush his temple hair. "You're wrong about one thing. It's not that I've never treated you like a brother—at least when I fuck you, I really do see you as my brother, because it makes me more excited."

He finished speaking, his eyes turning cold again. "Drive. Let's wait for the traffic cops to fine you."

·

Li Wangyue felt like he had returned to the time when he was kept by Ting Zhenxi.

The only difference was that he could come and go freely, with no chains on him.

Sometimes Ting Zhenxi would stay at home, lounging on the sofa scrolling through his phone, occasionally cooking a meal. Li Wangyue would rush home, planning to order takeout, only to find that Ting Zhenxi had already ordered and was setting the table for dinner.

Most of the time, he was nowhere to be seen.

Li Wangyue should have felt relieved, but as Ting Zhenxi had said, when he didn't see him, Li Wangyue became even more anxious.

His hatred for Ting Zhenxi was incredibly complex, and what he hated most was how accurate his words were. Even when Ting Zhenxi wasn't by his side, he was like a bone-deep poison, keeping Li Wangyue on edge.

He didn't want to ask proactively, but he couldn't help feeling afraid—afraid that Ting Zhenxi would do something heinous again.

Yet everything was calm. Nothing happened.

Ting Zhenxi came and went unpredictably, sometimes leaving at night and not returning until dawn. When he was gone, Li Wangyue's already poor sleep worsened.

He had to start taking sleeping pills again.

Sleep controlled by medication was never good, but it was better than nothing.

Occasionally, half-asleep, he would hear the sound of the door lock, and Li Wangyue would instinctively tense up, reaching for the knife under his pillow.

"It's me."

Ting Zhenxi's voice.

It came closer, approaching the bed, just like on many nights when Li Wangyue was unconscious.

Then came a kiss, sometimes light, sometimes heavy.

Li Wangyue could smell the cold, frosty dust on him—no blood, no pungent poison—and only then would he relax a little.

He hadn't done anything heinous yet. No innocent people had been implicated.

Ting Zhenxi knelt by the bed, gently rubbing his head.

"See, without me, you can't sleep."

Li Wangyue wanted to retort, but the drug's effect was too strong, and his consciousness slipped away as he fell back asleep.