Chapter 89

Chapter 89

At 9:20 PM, the night was quiet and still.

The villa was just as dim and quiet, shrouded in silence and darkness, so quiet that a pin drop could be heard, unlike usual days full of laughter.

Only a faint light glowed from the study, illuminating the man behind the desk.

Li Yanchuan rested his chin in one hand, with half-lidded eyes. Though he appeared to be working, his gaze didn't spare a glance at the files in front of him but was entirely fixed on his phone screen.

His screen was stuck on the chat with Song Nian. Once buzzing nonstop, tonight it was unusually quiet, containing only two brief exchanges and nothing more.

At seven, Song Nian texted that he had arrived at the restaurant for the dinner. At 8:30, he sent a picture from the dinner.

Beyond that, there was no further conversation.

The usually chatty little bird, always eager to share, had gone uncharacteristically quiet today.

No cheerful tone, no endless updates. Song Nian hadn't started a conversation, and Li Yanchuan didn't dare to disturb him, just replying briefly, telling him to have fun and not drink too much.

His expression dark, Li Yanchuan’s grip on the phone tightened, veins bulging on the back of his hand, as if the phone might break any second.

He couldn't help wondering: when would Song Nian be done? When would he come home? Who was at the table? Was he drunk? Was anyone giving him a hard time?

Though a thousand words were dying to be said, his fingers hovered over the screen, hesitating before ultimately deleting every typed character.

Nothing was sent.

He closed the chat and went back to the page he'd been looking at.

It was the page for Song Nian's new endorsement ad.

The buzz was through the roof, with the lively comments showing how well it was received.

But some comments were way too obvious.

His eyes landed on all the fans' pet names for him, and Li Yanchuan frowned, tapping his temple, his face showing his displeasure.

He knew Song Nian was on the rise in his career, naturally building up countless fans.

It was good that fans supported and liked Song Nian, and sometimes people just ran their mouths without thinking, which was understandable.

But even so, seeing those over-the-line terms like 'oppa' or 'husband' made jealousy well up uncontrollably inside him.

He didn't want to share the person he loved with anyone, even harboring the lowly desire to be the only one to see every side of Song Nian.

Jealousy slowly brewed, coalescing into an invisible hand that quietly opened Pandora's box, releasing dark emotions.

After all, Song Nian belonged to him.

He wanted to make Song Nian his alone, to possess him firmly, to lock him up where no one could see him…

His gaze flickered to the safe not far away, thinking about what was locked in there, and Li Yanchuan’s expression darkened.

But he knew all too well that he couldn't do that.

Because his intense possessiveness went completely against Song Nian's career plans.

As a public figure, Song Nian needed to be in the public eye; he couldn't be hidden away.

Moreover, pursuing a career in the entertainment industry was his dream.

It wasn't that he'd never thought about showing this desire. But every time he remembered Song Nian's tear-stained face, his heart softened.

Whether in the lounge or at home that time, Song Nian had cried so hard.

That pitiful, tearful look could both stir up darker desires and tug at the heartstrings.

He liked seeing Song Nian cry, but he was also afraid of it.

If he poured out his overflowing emotions and desires, it would only bring tears and fear. So he chose to hold back.

Love was a hand that reached out fiercely yet retracted with restraint.

So during this time, he wouldn't frown at Song Nian leaving early and coming back late for social engagements, nor would he show displeasure over his meetings with others.

Tonight, he had held himself back for a long time, resisting the urge to blow up his phone.

Closing all the annoying tabs, Li Yanchuan tossed his phone aside, rubbed his brow, and let out a heavy sigh, frustrated and restless.

He suppressed his wandering thoughts, forced himself to pick up the pen again, and focused on work.

Several files lay on the desk—tasks that once could have been completed in an hour or two had remained untouched from evening until now.

His fingers traced the pen’s body, his eyes fixed on the documents, yet his mind wandered, unable to concentrate.

Since he couldn't work, he decided to do something else to distract himself.

Li Yanchuan stood up and walked to the bookshelf.

The wall-to-wall bookshelf was filled with neatly arranged books, the vast collection spotless, clearly well-maintained.

But even so, as if driven by an obsessive compulsion, he began rearranging the books on the shelf in an almost neurotically precise order, hoping this would help pass the time alone.

By the time all the books were reorganized, it was nearly 10:30 PM, but there was still no message from the other person.

The garden was silent, and there was no sign of anyone returning.

The furrow between his brows deepened, his lower lip bitten so hard that a deep mark remained, as if it might bleed with just a bit more pressure.

Restless and uneasy, Li Yanchuan stood by the study window, arms crossed, fingers tapping irritably on his arm, his brow tightly knit. His gaze, darker than the night, was fixed on the garden below.

Finally, a beam of headlights shone into the garden, piercing into his dark eyes.

His dull eyes suddenly lit up, his brow relaxing. He knew Song Nian was back.

Instinctively, he wanted to rush out of the study and hurry downstairs, but he abruptly stopped mid-turn, forcing himself to hold back.

Only when he heard footsteps climbing the stairs did he compose himself, pushing the door open and stepping out leisurely.

"Back?"

Seeing the long-missed figure, Li Yanchuan concealed the myriad thoughts in his eyes, pretending he had just finished work, and spoke calmly.

Song Nian nodded woodenly, shuffled closer in his slippers, and looked up with dazed eyes, as if studying his expression.

As the distance closed, Li Yanchuan caught the faint scent of alcohol on him.

"How much did you drink?"

"Just a tiny bit, I'm not drunk."

Upon hearing this, Song Nian grinned, flashing his white teeth, and pinched his thumb and forefinger to indicate a tiny amount.

He was well-behaved; except for the first round of polite toasts, he switched to tea after that and didn't drink much.

His eyes sparkled as he looked at the man across from him, like he wanted to say something, or maybe he was waiting for something.

But Li Yanchuan didn't ask, because he was afraid he'd lose control and pull him into his arms, demanding to know what he'd been up to tonight.

As the silence stretched, Song Nian started to get sulky.

What's up with that? Such a dull reaction?

I went out to a business dinner, deliberately ignored you all night, and purposely didn't text you, and you don't have any reaction?

He thought these childish tricks would make Li Yanchuan possessive, make him show a jealous side, and let him feel the passion from before. But he never expected him to be so calm.

Like he couldn't care less.

He swallowed the words, "Don't you even want to ask me? Or hug me?" he pouted in anger, his temper flaring up, and just turned and walked back to his room.

He splashed some water on his face, then lay sideways on the bed, deliberately facing away from the middle.

Even when he felt the mattress dip behind him, he didn't turn around, clearly sulking.

In his daze, he thought he heard Li Yanchuan let out a barely audible sigh.

Then the lights clicked off, and a pair of strong arms wrapped around him from behind, carefully and tentatively pulling him close.

His heart softened a little, and besides, he was truly tired. Now, Song Nian didn't have the energy to analyze the current situation, so he just went limp and let Li Yanchuan hold him.

It was a night of hidden thoughts.

They had planned to talk it out, but just when Song Nian had some time off, Li Yanchuan had to go on a business trip.

"How long will you be gone?"

Holding onto the banister as he came downstairs, Song Nian asked in a hoarse voice, his voice hoarse, whether from just waking up or something else.

"About two or three days. I'll wrap it up as soon as I can."

Seeing him with his hair all mussed, the fluffy hair on top looking like the tip of a dog's wagging tail, Li Yanchuan's eyes softened, and he couldn't resist reaching out to ruffle his hair.

"Why's your voice a little hoarse? You feeling okay?"

"Maybe my throat's just dry from sleeping."

Not thinking much of it, Song Nian cleared his throat, planned to grab some water to wet his throat later.

"Ask Aunt Wang to make you some pear soup."

Told him to take care and to let him know if anything felt off, and getting a nod and a "sure," Li Yanchuan got into the car and headed for the airport.

Since no one was home, Song Nian didn't bother going back to bed. After breakfast, he went straight to the office.

Once he stepped out, he noticed that not only was his throat still bothering him, but he started feeling dizzy too.

His head was heavy, as if filled with lead, and his steps felt like walking on cotton—light and unsteady.

After finishing his tasks, he looked up, and suddenly Xiao Sun blurted out:

"Bro, why is your face so red?"

Hearing this, Song Nian touched his cheek in a daze, and it was indeed hot.

Xiao Sun quickly pressed the back of his hand to Song Nian's forehead. Feeling how hot it was, his face changed, and he said firmly:

"You're burning up! You have a fever!"

Then, without waiting for an answer, he grabbed him and made to drag him to the hospital for a shot.

After being shoved into the back seat, Song Nian realized what was going on and waved his hand, refusing, saying it was fine to just take him home.

"Bro, you're really running a high fever. If you don't want to go to the hospital, should I call Chairman Li?"

"No need. I'll just go home and take some fever reducers."

Song Nian forced a smile and waved his hand, telling him not to worry.

In the end, Xiao Sun had no choice but to drive toward the villa. He originally wanted to stay and take care of him, but Song Nian said not to bother, telling him to go back first.

Assuming that Chairman Li would be back soon or that a family doctor would come, Xiao Sun nodded and agreed to leave.

But as the car drove out of the garden, Song Nian closed the gate, not calling anyone as he had promised.

In the huge villa, he was now the only one sick.

He didn't want to trouble Xiao Sun, so he let him leave first. Then, instinctively, he pulled out his phone to contact Li Yanchuan, but thinking that the man was probably busy just after landing, he gave up the idea.

It's just a minor illness; he shouldn't be a bother...

Li Yanchuan has work to focus on; he mustn't disturb him...

Having grown up with a considerate nature, Song Nian restrained himself. Silently, he turned off the phone screen and dragged his heavy body upstairs to find a thermometer.

——38.5°C, high fever.

Probably from working nonstop recently, his immunity had dropped, and he caught a chill and fell ill.

He took a fever reducer and was about to wrap himself up and sleep, when suddenly his phone pinged.

"Li Yanchuan: Back from the office? Is your throat better?"

After reading it, Song Nian lowered his eyes, his thick lashes drooping like wilted wings.

He rallied his energy and slowly typed back:

"Song Nian: Yeah, I'm back. Feeling much better, nothing to worry about. Don't worry, good luck with your work over there!"