Chapter 26 Insomnia Relapse

Chapter 26: Insomnia Relapse

Chu Yan returned to his apartment at ten in the evening.

Chu Chenzhi bought this apartment for him years ago. After coming back from studying abroad, Chu Yan moved out of the Chu family home and had been living alone here ever since.

Located in a prime, expensive neighborhood in the city, it was a three-bedroom penthouse spanning over three hundred square meters. The balcony accounted for a quarter of the total area and came with a private open-air swimming pool. From the twenty-second floor, one could take in most of the bustling city center.

Chu Yan was usually particular about his clothes. The sixty-square-meter walk-in closet was almost entirely filled with Yitai’s luxury collections—formal wear, casual clothes, and accessories each had their own designated zones. Among them, the ebony cabinet for perfumes stood out the most, equipped with a built-in temperature control and ultraviolet disinfection system.

Inside the cabinet were the perfumes Chu Yan collected. This was his hobby, yet he rarely used them on himself.

After looking around, Chu Yan found a box that could hold the iron sculpture.

This was the smallest piece among Qi Qinghe’s latest works—about the length of a forearm, shaped like a human figure kneeling on one leg with the lower half of the other leg missing. Half of the face had been clawed away by the iron itself, the hands merging with the face, and dense weld spots covered the surface, making it look both grotesque and disgusting.

Chu Yan held it in his hands for a long time, wearing the expression of someone immune to all poisons while examining it.

Fortunately, it was only scrap metal. If it were a living person, brains would surely be spilling all over the floor.

Chu Yan took a bottle of perfume from the cabinet and sprayed it twice over the head. The rusty smell was fully activated, mingling with a cloying, rotten floral scent.

After doing this, he placed it into the box.

Based on his own long-term experience with insomnia, Chu Yan had concluded that the limit for normal mental functioning was between eighty and ninety hours. Converted to days, that was four days. In other words, as long as his sleepless hours did not exceed this number, his daily work and life would not be affected.

Tonight would bring it to seventy hours—still not an urgent situation.

The lingering aftereffects of the "blackout" entangled him this night.

Chu Yan found one of the trilogies he had previously started watching with Dr. Chi but hadn't finished. He projected the image onto the wall. The enlarged picture had a slightly distorted quality, and the colors weren't as vivid. With this mediocre projection quality, Chu Yan whiled away another two-plus hours.

What the film was about—sadly, he couldn't quite grasp it.

Twenty-four hours in a day felt unbearably long without sleep.

In the past, Chu Yan never thought this way. Others talked about how precious time was, but for him, time was just something to be rushed through. It felt like he had to rush through each day.

Chu Yan got up and went back to the walk-in closet, looking for something to keep at hand.

As he wandered around, a beige scarf caught his eye—a warm tone completely at odds with the rest of the room—and he couldn't shake it from his sight.

Defeated, Chu Yan took down the scarf, wrapped it twice around his neck, and sat back down in front of the screen.

On the wall was a still blue glow; the plot had long since ended. Chu Yan sat there quietly, burying his face into the scarf.

This scarf, like himself, had soaked for a long time in that ward of He'an Hospital, inevitably picking up some of Chi Suiyong's scent. Chu Yan focused on distinguishing, through smell, which strands of the scent drifting around his nostrils came from Chi Suiyong.

Mixed in with the substitute for Lovey, that faint thread of presence existed like a wisp of silk. Chu Yan, hooked by that thread, gradually relaxed his back, and his eyelids, which he had been forcing open, slowly closed.

The next morning, when he woke up, he saw the scarf around his neck and immediately refused to admit it had helped.

Either he had misremembered the time, or it was because he had just made a trip to Qi Qinghe's.

A full night's sleep had driven away the gloom, and the lifeline shoved into his hand while he was weak also lost its value. From then on, over the next two weeks, Chu Yan embarked on a path of trying to deny the mysticism born of a certain person.

That mysticism revolved around Dr. Chi. Chu Yan was always unwilling to admit that anyone other than his father, Qi Qinghe, could serve as a remedy to cure his chronic insomnia.

After three tries, the scarf that had been casually thrown on the sofa was tossed into the washing machine by the cleaner. The tool left for Chu Yan's argument now carried the scent of detergent.

Even the clues that could sustain his fantasies were washed clean.

He went to Qi Qinghe's place again, busied himself as usual, exchanged cold words with Qi Qinghe, and then returned to his own apartment. That night, until dawn, he couldn't fall asleep.

Chu Yan had once again trapped himself in a dead end. The wall that imprisoned him was the mysticism surrounding Chi Suiyong.

He still refused to believe it.

Having broken through the insomnia limit, the next afternoon, before the pediatric clinic closed for the day, Chu Yan took the company's business car and got off work early.

On the way to He'an Hospital, the car stopped in front of a brick-and-mortar store under the Yitai brand.

Chu Yan recalled Dr. Chi's usual attire—mostly loose and simple styles, preferring light, warm colors. Since it was now the dead of winter, if he wanted to give something, warmth should come first.

"This one, and this one, each in a light-colored size L, please."

"Mr. Chu, is this for someone else or for yourself?"

"For someone else."

"Alright, I'll wrap them up for you right away."

Chu Yan accepted the drink offered by the sales assistant, thanked her, and waited quietly. Soon, the assistant in charge of packaging came over to ask again: "Mr. Chu, what should I write on the card?"

"Whatever."

The assistant looked troubled: "This..."

Chu Yan was silent for a moment, glanced at the packed boxes, stood up, and walked over. "Give me the receipt. No card needed."

After signing the receipt, Chu Yan took the boxes and left the store.

Dr. Chi finished his clinic at 4:50 every day. When he went to the cafeteria depended on Chu Yan. During the time he accompanied Chu Yan, Dr. Chi had taken Chu Yan to his dormitory a few times, so Chu Yan was familiar with the route.

Chu Yan didn't know what Dr. Chi's daily routine was like when he wasn't accompanying him. He didn't have Dr. Chi's contact information, and he didn't want to draw attention by asking the hospital front desk. So he waited downstairs at the dormitory.

Thus, he waited from 4:30 to 5:30, until he saw off-duty medical staff gradually returning to the dormitory.

Chu Yan found an inconspicuous spot to sit, his gaze fixed on the dormitory entrance.

This wait lasted another half hour.

In the dead of winter, night fell early, and the landscape lights around the dormitory had already turned on. Chu Yan turned up his coat collar, still feeling a bit cold.

He opened his phone screen, hesitating whether to ask Chu Chenzhi for Dr. Chi's phone number.

He lit up and dimmed his phone screen several times. The conflicted man kept making excuses for his own cowardice.

Even though he himself didn't know what exactly he was so afraid of.

Forget it, maybe he should just go back.

Having made up his mind, Chu Yan started walking out. Unexpectedly, as he turned a corner, the person he had been waiting for nearly two hours was about to collide with him.

Dr. Chi never walked with his head down looking at his phone. He stopped in his tracks quickly, though his expression showed some surprise.

"Chu Yan?"

Chu Yan squeezed the box in his hands. Before coming, he had already thought about how to obtain the "experimental subject," but he hadn't planned how to start the conversation, especially with Dr. Chi looking surprised.

A word came to mind—"uninvited."

Maybe the guy had other plans after work—what if his own plan flopped?

The other guy was sharp and handed him an excuse, "You here for a checkup?"

Dr. Chi was truly considerate and intelligent.

Chu Yan visibly relaxed. "Yeah, here for a checkup."

"And? How'd it go?"

"Nah, nothing serious."

"That's good."

Chu Yan stared at Dr. Chi, realizing it had been over twenty days since they last met. He seemed different somehow—maybe his hair was shorter, and with the cold weather, he was wearing thicker clothes, so his face looked smaller.

Back when he "blacked out," Chu Yan's mind was still immature and his taste undeveloped, so he'd only managed a lukewarm "not bad" for a just-woken-up Dr. Chi.

Now that he was back to normal, looking at him again, there was something more intriguing about his face.

His features were smooth and gentle, his eyes firm yet warm—an approachable look.

Chu Yan remembered how his smile made that approachability even more striking.

Strangely, after a few exchanges, Dr. Chi's expression stayed flat, with a hint of distance Chu Yan thought he'd seen before.

He couldn't quite place it.

"It's this late, why aren't you home yet?"

"I was waiting for you."

Dr. Chi's eyes flickered, almost a smile breaking through. "Waiting for me?"

"Yeah, I stopped by a store after work and saw some clothes that would look good on you, so I grabbed them."

"Then..." Dr. Chi glanced up toward his second-floor room. "Want to come up for a bit?"

Chu Yan said without hesitation, "Sure."

Dr. Chi hesitated a second, then started up the stairs. Chu Yan followed closely, the breeze carrying a familiar scent to his nose.

His tense back relaxed, but another smell mixed in made him frown immediately.

It was confirmed as soon as they entered Dr. Chi's room.

"Dr. Chi, I thought you didn't smoke."

The ashtray was empty, but the room smelled even more of nicotine.

Dr. Chi smiled calmly. "Once in a while. I forgot how sharp your nose is—I'll open the window."

"Don't bother, I don't mind."

Chu Yan was lying. He did mind a little, but not the smell itself—it was the addictive nature of it. Dr. Chi shouldn't be tangled up in that stuff, at least in his eyes.

The single room was small—just a living area, a bedroom, and a bathroom. Chu Yan glanced around; Dr. Chi's bedroom door was closed.

He sat down on the sofa and placed the box he was holding on the coffee table.

"What do you want to drink?"

"Anything's fine."

"Hmm... it's late, let me make you some juice."

"Thanks."

Near the entrance was a small wet bar. Dr. Chi crouched down, took two oranges from a mini fridge, peeled them deftly, cut them in two, and tossed them into the juicer.

The whir of the juicer filled the silence when they ran out of things to say.

Drowsiness crept over him. Chu Yan leaned back into the soft sofa, his eyes too dry to keep open.

Just for a while—he'd nap for a bit...