Chapter 80 Brother, Be Gentle

Chapter 80: Bro, easy

The results of this follow-up were good. Even though Ting Zhenxi didn't follow the doctor's orders and refused to stay properly in the hospital every day, the tests showed he was recovering well.

Young people are just young—Li Wangyue thought to himself.

"You're not that much older than me, so don't put on such a mature act." Ting Zhenxi patted his head.

He liked this gesture, but Li Wangyue didn't. He swatted his hand away and shot him a cold glare. Ting Zhenxi took the hint and withdrew his hand.

Li Wangyue wasn't trying to act aloof, but he had always been this way. As someone who was used to taking care of others, he unconsciously carried a somewhat condescending attitude.

Ting Zhenxi pulled out a wet wipe, cleaned the tear tracks from his face, and handed him the report.

Li Wangyue couldn't make sense of it and asked him to explain directly. Ting Zhenxi said he couldn't understand it either, only remembered that the doctor said the results were good, and asked if they wanted to go see the doctor together to ask.

Li Wangyue checked the time and decided against it. He had to go to Twilight Island; if he was late, he might miss the boat.

He glanced again at Ting Zhenxi's chest, but the sweatshirt was too thick to see how the bandage underneath looked.

"Like I said, if you're worried, come listen yourself." Ting Zhenxi took his hand and placed it on his chest. "Feel it?"

The heartbeat beneath his palm was faint—maybe because of the thick fabric—and he couldn't feel it clearly. Li Wangyue couldn't help but want to press harder to find a pulse.

Seeing that he had unconsciously applied force, Ting Zhenxi held his wrist. "Bro, easy, it hurts."

Li Wangyue snapped out of it and tried to pull his hand away, but it was held even tighter, impossible to break free.

Ting Zhenxi pulled him closer, wrapping him in an embrace. Realizing his intent, Li Wangyue tried to struggle but dared not make any big movements.

"Can you hear it?" he asked. "If you can't feel it, just listen."

Li Wangyue rested his forehead on his shoulder, his back rising and falling, breathing with difficulty.

But he did hear it. Even though he wasn't leaning directly against his chest, at that distance, the heartbeat he hadn't been able to feel was now clear.

He could also hear his breathing, and he felt the warmth of Ting Zhenxi's neck on his ear.

Li Wangyue recovered for a moment, then pulled back.

"Behave yourself from now on. Don't get hurt again." He suppressed the tremor in his voice.

"Mm." Ting Zhenxi lowered his eyes, the residual warmth of his wrist still lingering in his palm.

Leaving the hospital, the weather was perfect—clear skies, high visibility.

It would have been a great day for island hopping, but unfortunately, the vegetation on the island was in trouble.

Li Wangyue drove to the port just as the boat was docking. He took a shuttle boat to Twilight Island. The boat had been replaced with a larger, more stable one. He wondered if Zhao Bing had opened a new port and route.

From the deck, he could see the endless ocean. If he let his mind wander, he could lose his sense of direction where the sea met the sky, unsure of where he was.

Li Wangyue gripped the railing to recover from a dizzy spell.

A hand lightly touched his back from behind.

Ting Zhenxi walked up beside him. "If you get dizzy, you can sit down. Don't stare off into the distance."

Li Wangyue followed his guidance, sat down in a soft chair, and took a sip of water.

"How did you manage to recover back then?" he suddenly asked.

Ting Zhenxi, who was looking out at the sea, turned his head. "What?"

"I mean..." Li Wangyue paused before continuing. "That hang glider accident."

Earlier on, Ting Zhenxi was passionate about extreme sports. He had obtained his youth pilot license at a young age. At 15, he played with powered paragliders in a coastal flying club. His physique and skills were praised by his coach as a natural talent. He had won many awards at a young age.

During a flight across a giant mudflat along the southern Italian coast, his glider tilted, then lost control, rapidly losing altitude and beginning a dive.

It was a critical situation. Even his coach thought he might die. What made it more terrifying was that Ting Zhenxi's glider was passing over a huge island at the time. The terrain caused the tracking drone to lose sight of him. For 13 seconds, no one could see what happened to him.

Then, in an instant, his glider reappeared in sight. The fuselage was corrected, speed stabilized, and he made an emergency landing at the nearest safe point to receive medical rescue.

"How did you pull it off back then?" Li Wangyue asked. "Were you dizzy too?"

Ting Zhenxi recalled. "Yes."

At that time, he had already lost his sense of space. The glider started tilting about 1 or 2 degrees, but he still thought he was flying level.

"The weather was perfect that day—no wind, no waves. I was being playful, distracted by the view. Suddenly, I realized the sky and the sea had merged, and I couldn't tell which side was the ocean."

By the time he reacted and tried to find a reference point, he had already lost track of the lines of the waves and the horizon. His aircraft was flying almost parallel to the waves, tilted, unable to find a level position.

"I was really dizzy at that moment. The plane was losing altitude. I had already passed the island and couldn't look back. My head was ringing. All the discomfort from flying surged up, and cold sweat poured out. Staring at the instruments, I almost pushed the control stick in the wrong direction. I barely managed to straighten the fuselage and climb."

Recalling that accident, even though it had been seven or eight years, it was still vivid. "Later, the coach said I was just a hair away from falling into the sea. My reaction wasn't fast enough."

"That was already fast. Just a hair's breadth. You didn't fall, did you?" Li Wangyue said, squeezing the bottle in his hand.

After finishing his story, Ting Zhenxi looked into his eyes. "Where did you see it back then?"

Li Wangyue crinkled the empty water bottle in his hand. He had finished the water long ago, and the sea breeze made him feel especially thirsty.

"...I saw a little of it," he bit his dry, chapped lip.

"There was a time difference, right? You should have been sleeping at that hour, still growing," Ting Zhenxi said.

Li Wangyue found his tone condescending, like he was scolding a child. He couldn't help but retort, "You're the one still growing."

"Yeah, exactly. Because I slept a lot when I was young, I ended up taller than you. You just stay up all night watching me, that's why you're not as good as me."

"Go to hell." Li Wangyue glared at him.

Ting Zhenxi smirked faintly, then his eyes dimmed. "Were you scared back then?"

Li Wangyue didn't answer.

He really was scared. It was late at night, and he had stayed up to watch Ting Zhenxi's competition live. When that incident happened, during the 13 seconds the drone couldn't capture, his hands and feet went cold, and he couldn't sit still.

Even after Ting Zhenxi's glider re-emerged, he was still trembling. He watched his machine land, the doctor pulling him out of the cockpit, checking him over, confirming he was okay. Only then did he collapse onto the bed, tears streaming down his face.

Ting Zhenxi was silent for a moment. "Your insomnia wasn't triggered back then, was it?"

Li Wangyue shook his head. He didn't know. He only knew that night he really didn't sleep well.

Ting Zhenxi held his hand, which was resting on his knee.

Li Wangyue looked up dazedly. When he approached, he instinctively lowered his head slightly, and a very light kiss landed on his brow.

Unlike previous kisses, Li Wangyue sometimes felt that Ting Zhenxi was like a mad dog or a wild beast—he never understood restraint, always extremely forceful and aggressive. His kisses were wild and passionate, carrying blood, swelling, pain, and sticky spit; they were not as dignified as the man himself, but rather primitive enough to make your heart race and tempt you to abandon morality and sink into them, completely enslaved by desire.

This one was different.

It was just a quick peck, then he lowered his head again to kiss the bridge of his nose. His cool lips pressed against the skin. Li Wangyue closed his eyes, and only that warmth remained in his mind; all other noise vanished almost instantly.

“I won’t make you worry anymore,” he said.

Li Wangyue’s hand on his knee tightened slightly, but he didn’t respond to that statement.

Other tourists walked by on the deck, and he quickly turned his head to avoid them, letting the tender moment dissolve into the sea breeze.

“Why did you do that? That was dangerous,” he asked.

The sea wind was blustery, but Ting Zhenxi still heard his words.

Li Wangyue didn’t specify what, but Ting Zhenxi understood. He also knew this question had been buried in Li Wangyue’s heart for a long time.

He knew perfectly well that Ting Huayi was drugging him—why didn’t he stop the drugging from the start? He also knew that Ting Huayi wasn’t dead at all—why did he let him kidnap Li Wangyue?

“Justified,” Ting Zhenxi said, and a hint of an unreadable emotion appeared in his eyes as he looked at Li Wangyue. “I needed you as bait to make Ting Huayi’s death unquestionably justified.”

Li Wangyue’s breath caught, and a self-deprecating smile touched his lips.

“You can blame me, but I have no regrets,” Ting Zhenxi said.

Li Wangyue smiled bitterly and shook his head. “I don’t blame you for this. On the contrary, seeing him die so miserably actually makes me feel a lot better. You can use me as bait anytime; even if it happens again, I’ll willingly cooperate.”

Ting Zhenxi had always been ruthless and cold, willing to use even his own life whenever it suited him—whether as a tool or just for pure amusement—let alone the lives of others.

He probably only resented that Ting Huayi died too easily.

Ting Zhenxi smiled slightly. “You’ll get your wish. If there’s a next time, I won’t risk you again.”

Li Wangyue also smiled. “Alright, then next time I’ll cooperate again.”

He looked at Ting Zhenxi’s profile, but saw seriousness in his eyes—as if he wasn’t joking, yet also as if he was simply enjoying his usual prank.

Li Wangyue couldn’t help but wonder: “…Ting Huayi really died in that explosion, right?”

Ting Zhenxi adjusted his collar for him. “Of course.”

The explosion was massive; if it hadn’t been for the old wooden house with an old unused air-raid shelter from the previous century that hadn’t been sealed, Ting Zhenxi would have been in serious danger too.

Li Wangyue frowned at him. “He’s really dead, isn’t he?”

“Mm. Dead.” Ting Zhenxi took his hand and kissed his fingertips. “At least in name, that’s the case.”

Li Wangyue’s heart skipped a beat. “You…”

“We’re almost at the shore,” Ting Zhenxi changed the subject, pulling his hand. “Can brother promise me one thing?”

Li Wangyue looked at his hand held in Ting Zhenxi’s palm. Both of their hands were cold, but pressed together, they seemed to have a bit of warmth, better than nothing.

“What is it?” He didn’t pull his hand away, but gave a slight twist to remind him to release it.

Ting Zhenxi released his hand accordingly, then slipped a small, cold object into his palm.

“When you see Zhao Bing later, don’t let him cling to you anymore. Use this to handle him.”

Li Wangyue looked down and saw a very sharp switchblade in his hand.

Li Wangyue: …