Chapter 3: Dark Clouds (Part 3)

Chapter 3: Dark Clouds (Part 2)

"Wu Yi, I don’t want to lose you."

Li Su cried as he scrambled up from the ground, watched as the madman grabbed Song Wuyi’s neck again.

The madman raised the glass bottle in his hand, tilting it slowly. Beneath the bottle’s mouth was Song Wuyi’s filthy face.

A rush of energy surged through Li Su’s blood. Aiming at the madman, he lowered his head and charged recklessly.

Li Su slammed into the madman’s back, and Song Wuyi was also knocked away by the sudden impact.

The madman staggered a couple of steps, steadied himself, then turned and grabbed Li Su by the hair. Li Su screamed in pain as his mouth opened, and the bottle’s mouth was shoved right between his lips.

The liquid poured down Li Su’s throat.

In a split-second reaction, Song Wuyi quickly snatched up the cleaver on the ground and swung it at the madman.

One strike severed the hand holding the bottle.

Li Su collapsed to the ground, clutching his throat, screaming in pain.

Without looking at Li Su, Song Wuyi swung the cleaver again.

The madman’s other hand was also cut off.

The madman fell to the ground, lying beside Li Su.

His pain was deeper than Li Su’s, but he didn’t beg for mercy—instead, he burst into manic laughter.

Song Wuyi’s eyes turned bloodshot as he raised the cleaver high.

"Song Wuyi, how could you be the son of that hypocrite Song Shuzheng? You should have been my child. The way you are now, I see myself in you."

Song Wuyi’s hands froze.

The madman’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and he said slowly, word by word: "Guess, did Ah Qin and I ever sleep together?"

Song Wuyi brought the cleaver down hard.

The blade sank deep into the madman’s chest.

The sound of ribs breaking, the sound of his heart bursting, the madman’s final cry.

Only once the madman was dead did Song Wuyi drop the knife, exhausted. He stepped back and landed on a severed, bloody arm still spurting blood.

Everything before his eyes turned red, and he couldn't see clearly.

Song Wuyi fainted, collapsing straight to the ground.

When he opened his eyes again, dawn was breaking on the horizon.

.

The redness had faded from his vision.

He sat up from the ground and saw the debris all around—his mother's and the madman's remains.

In the middle of the wreckage lay a figure.

Song Wuyi struggled to his feet and walked over to the curled-up child.

"Wake up."

Song Wuyi lifted Li Su’s head to get a look at it. His lips were corroded into a bloody mess, and inside his slightly open mouth, his tongue was missing a section.

Song Wuyi used his fingers to gently pull out the tongue and check the damage.

Only the tip of the tongue was gone.

There probably hadn’t been much liquid poured in—not life-threatening.

Song Wuyi picked Li Su up in his arms and carried him to a spot where there was no dried blood.

Nearby was a vat filled with rainwater that had been sitting for who knows how long, but it wasn't too murky.

Song Wuyi wanted to clean the blood off Li Su’s face to check the wounds. Without much thought, he tore a strip of cloth from his own leg.

But he forgot that he himself had been enduring pain—his body was already riddled with injuries. When the strip of cloth was abruptly pulled away, it ripped off a piece of skin with it.

Song Wuyi almost fainted from the pain.

The cloth was covered in damaged skin tissue, unusable for wiping Li Su’s face.

So Song Wuyi could only dip his hands in water, gently rubbing away the indistinguishable grime and rotten flesh from Li Su’s face.

Soon, the pain woke Li Su up.

As soon as he regained consciousness, he started crying. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.

Song Wuyi met Li Su’s pathetic gaze. He smiled, though barely.

"Don’t be scared. It’s all right now. You saved me."

Li Su pointed at his own throat, struggling to say something.

Song Wuyi waited for a long time. He thought Li Su would ask what the liquid he had drunk was, would ask if his mouth, tongue, and throat were ruined.

"You, don’t, think about, dying, okay?"

The faint hint of a smile on Song Wuyi’s face froze. He caressed Li Su’s cheek and asked him why.

Li Su’s tears kept flowing, and he kept gasping in pain from the effort of speaking.

But he still managed to force out a sentence.

"Because, I, see you, as, a friend."

Song Wuyi demanded harshly, "If you see me as a friend, does that mean you get to control whether I live or die?"

Li Su didn’t get why Song Wuyi suddenly turned on him. He tried desperately to explain.

"I, I, don’t want to lose you. I, really, really like you, ah. I want, to be, friends, with you."

In his rush, Li Su bit his tongue, where the wound hadn’t healed. The pain was so bad he slipped out of Song Wuyi’s arms and writhed on the ground.

Li Su felt like the protagonist in one of those adventure movies: having gone through a life-and-death moment, Song Wuyi was not just a partner in this ordeal but also the witness to his entire experience.

It was nothing like the bond from playing hide-and-seek with a buddy.

Watching Li Su thrashing in pain, Song Wuyi felt his heart clench for a moment, yet felt inexplicably happy.

He gathered Li Su back into his arms, pried open his mouth, and blew gently into his mouth.

His breath was cool and crisp, and Li Su's burning tongue felt as if it were soaked in mint, easing the pain a little. It still hurt, but it felt better because someone was looking out for him.

"How long will you be my friend?"

"A long... long time."

"How long is a long time?"

"Maybe... a lifetime?"

"Do you know how long a lifetime is?"

Li Su struggled to speak—his lips hurt, his tongue hurt, his throat hurt. Though he enjoyed talking with Song Wuyi, the question was too ridiculous for him to answer, so he simply kept his mouth shut and stayed silent.

Song Wuyi stopped asking questions.

It had been four days since he was kidnapped.

Li Su had been there for two and a half days.

They had eaten nothing, were covered with injuries, and their bodies were at their breaking point.

Song Wuyi couldn't leave with Li Su; he didn't know where they were, and he didn't have the strength to move. All he could do was hope for...

Li Su's parents?

Or Song Shuzheng?

Thinking of Song Shuzheng, and that woman and the child she brought.

Song Wuyi no longer wanted to avoid it.

He had killed a madman. Wasn't he even crazier than the madman?

The madman was insane because he had no fear.

And now, neither did Song Wuyi.

.

As consciousness began to slip away again, Song Wuyi saw the red-and-blue flashing lights of police cars getting closer.

The child in his arms, Li Su, was already passed out.

Someone tried to take Li Su from his embrace, but he held on tightly, wouldn't let go.

Only when he heard a voice say—

"Oh no, this kid has a fever. If it keeps rising, his life could be in danger!"

—did Song Wuyi slowly let go of their linked fingers.