Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Shen Ling's hand tightened around his phone.

He'd never wanted anyone to know about his family situation, including Huo Yanshen.

The phone was still ringing. Shen Ling hesitated, not answering.

Huo Yanshen noticed his unease. "Want me to step out?"

Shen Ling waved a hand. "N-no, no need."

They were still in the car—where exactly was Huo Yanshen supposed to go?

That'd be way too much to ask of him.

Shen Ling bit his lower lip, made up his mind, and pressed the answer button.

He didn't put it on speaker, pressing the phone tightly against his ear while covering the microphone with his other hand, scared to death of letting even a peep slip out.

The voice on the other end was loud—even through the phone, he could faintly hear that rough, heavy male voice.

"Shen Ling?! Are you deaf? I've been calling you forever and you didn't pick up!"

Shen Ling pressed the phone even closer to his face, his voice barely a whisper. "...What is it?"

Huo Yanshen subtly shifted, inching toward the door and turning his gaze out the window to give Shen Ling some privacy.

On the other end of the line, Shen Guoliang's voice rang out again, pressing and aggressive: "I'm asking you—how much money did you take from your grandmother? How much allowance did she give you this month?"

Shen Ling pressed his lips together and said nothing.

Shen Guoliang didn't need his answer anyway. He went on without pause: "Your little brother's short on cash again—he needs to sign up for some classes. Whatever you've got, send it all to him first."

Shen Ling had heard these exact words countless times in his past life.

Every single time, it was the same—the call connects, and it's money, money, money.

In his past life, Shen Ling had still held onto this faint, fragile hope—that if he was good enough, obedient enough, maybe his family would finally give him a little more attention.

But he'd learned they never would.

So in this life, he wasn't going to give anymore.

"I don't have money," Shen Ling said.

"You don't have money?"

Shen Guoliang's voice was rough and harsh. "Don't give me that crap! The money your mother left you before she ran off—there's no way you burned through all of it!"

Shen Ling's knuckles gradually turned white around the phone. "My mom's money was left to me. It's none of your business."

The other end exploded instantly: "None of my business?! I'm your damn father!"

"You've eaten my food and lived under my roof your whole life, and now you're telling me it's none of my business?! That mother of yours—if I hadn't married her, where would some out-of-towner have found a place to stay? And what does she do? After a few years with me, she ditches her son and daughter and runs off. Now you're just like her, going on about 'jewelry design'—what kind of garbage is that? Can you eat that crap? An ungrateful little shit, just like your whore of a mother!..."

Shen Ling's chest was heaving. He didn't want to keep listening to Shen Guoliang curse, so he hung up.

The car went quiet.

Shen Ling put his phone back in his pocket, head down, fingers gripping the fabric of his pants. His breathing got fast, his throat itched, and he started coughing again. He hunched over, his thin back shaking with every cough, tears welling up at the corners of his eyes as he curled into the seat.

It took a while before he finally managed to calm down. He gasped for air, then, suddenly remembering something, wiped the corner of his mouth and turned to look at Huo Yanshen.

"Sorry, I... this cold is probably from getting caught in the rain—it shouldn't be contagious, so you don't need to worry... cough, cough..."

The words came out all jumbled.

Before he could finish, another wave of itchiness hit his throat. He turned his head and coughed a few times, his shoulders shaking.

A warm hand suddenly landed on his back. Huo Yanshen reached out, placed his hand on Shen Ling's back, and rubbed along his slender spine to help him breathe.

Shen Ling's nose was still red. He pressed his lips together a few times but couldn't quite keep them steady, the corners of his mouth drooping slightly.

He rubbed his face hard with both hands, wiping away all the expressions he shouldn't be showing, then sat up straight again.

Huo Yanshen didn't answer the question about it being contagious. Instead, he reached into the front seat's storage compartment, pulled out a thermos, unscrewed the lid, and handed it to Shen Ling.

Orange peel and a little rock sugar boiled in water—drink it hot to calm a cough.

Shen Ling took it, held the cup with both hands, and took a small sip. Sweet and warm, it slid all the way from his throat down to his stomach.

"Thank you," Shen Ling said quietly.

Only after Shen Ling finished drinking did Huo Yanshen speak. "No need to apologize."

"You haven't done anything wrong."

Shen Ling blinked, his mind still processing those words, but his mouth moved faster than his brain: "Oh, oh... then, then I take it back."

Wait, no.

What was he even saying? Like this was a text message he could just unsend.

Shen Ling's voice got quieter and quieter: "I mean... that is... just, forget I said anything... yeah."

Huo Yanshen said calmly, "It's fine."

Shen Ling quietly let out a breath of relief, put the thermos back in the cup holder, and shrank into his seat, wishing he could curl up into a tiny ball and hide in a corner.

Too embarrassing.

Luckily, the car soon arrived at the villa.

Shen Ling followed Huo Yanshen inside, changed into slippers, and hesitated for a moment at the entrance.

In his past life, during this period, he and Huo Yanshen had slept in separate rooms. It was only later, when they'd slept together more often, that he'd started spending more nights in Huo Yanshen's bed.

And now, Shen Ling always had a taut string in his mind.

Only he knew about the things from his past life. He was afraid that one day he might burn up with fever and get confused, or have a nightmare in the middle of the night and blurt out something he shouldn't.

If he ever talked in his sleep and said something like "Huo Yanshen, you died young in your past life," Huo Yanshen would probably think he had a screw loose.

Besides, the way he sometimes acted when his condition flared up was pretty frightening. Better not to let Huo Yanshen see that.

Shen Ling wrapped himself in the blanket, buried his face in the pillow, and closed his eyes.

*

In the study, only a desk lamp was lit.

Huo Yanshen sat at the computer, the cold white light from the screen casting across his face. The screen was packed with Shen Ling's family information.

Shen Guoliang, father, multiple drunk-and-disorderly incidents, credit history was a total mess.

His biological mother had left home when Shen Ling was five, and hadn't been heard from since.

Line after line scrolled by, and with every detail he read, the shadows in his eyes grew darker.

The words piled up like dull blades, sawing at his chest until he could barely breathe.

He didn't even need to read some entries fully—halfway through, he could already piece together the whole picture. In his past life, Shen Ling never mentioned his family matters in front of him. Back then, he figured it was about respecting Shen Ling's privacy, so he never pushed.

Only now did he understand why Shen Ling's money always seemed to disappear, why every time Shen Ling hung up after a call from home, he would retreat alone into his room and not come out for a long time.

It was his own complete, unforgivable failure. Shen Ling didn't speak, and he simply never asked. He hadn't looked into it while Shen Ling was alive, and he hadn't protected him after his death either.

Shen Ling ending up where he was now—that was all on him.

He was the one who wasn't good enough, the one who failed to protect the person he loved.

Huo Yanshen's fingertips pressed against the keyboard, his knuckles going white, one joint at a time.

He pulled a fountain pen from the holder and wrote a name in the notebook lying open beside him, then gripped the pen hard in his palm.

The screen refreshed. Huo Yanshen's eyes swept over it, and his pupils suddenly contracted.

It was a file. The report traced back to an ER visit from the winter of Shen Ling's first year of middle school: left forearm fracture, two suspected broken ribs on the right side, and multiple facial contusions.

— Perpetrator: his biological father, Shen Guoliang.

The sharp pen tip dug into the side of Huo Yanshen's left index finger, but he seemed to feel nothing, letting it sink into his skin.

Blood immediately welled up from the wound, tracing the lines of his palm and dripping onto the notebook with soft patter-patter sounds.

He would personally make them pay for every bit of suffering Shen Ling had endured, grinding them into the dirt so they could never get back up.

Only after every debt was paid in full would he deserve to walk a long road with Shen Ling.

He glanced down, face blank, grabbed a tissue from the box, and pressed it to the wound.

The blood quickly soaked through the tissue. Huo Yanshen watched the bright red spread across the paper, his eyes completely flat, as if the wound weren't even his own.

He picked up his phone and dialed a number.

"Mr. Huo."

Huo Yanshen's voice was ice-cold, flat: "Pull up everything on Shen Guoliang. Bank statements, loan records, employment history, social connections..."

"Don't leave out a single detail."

The voice on the other end answered promptly: "Got it."

*

At one in the morning, Shen Ling lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

He couldn't sleep.

He'd been buried under the covers, eyes shut, for almost two hours now.

The high fever from a few days ago had knocked him out for dozens of hours straight—he'd probably burned through the next several days' worth of sleep in advance.

Plus, insomnia had always been his old problem. In his past life, sleeping pills had kept it in check; this time around, he hadn't gotten around to buying any yet, so he could only lie there wide awake, toughing it out.

At night, his already frail body felt even more sensitive. His throat started itching again, and he coughed twice into the blanket. After the coughing fit, his heart started racing out of control.

His head was spinning too, temples pounding. He was dead tired, yet his mind stayed cruelly alert. He yanked the blanket over his head and curled into a tiny ball.

Why did everything hurt so much? It felt like he was dying.

In the dead quiet of the night, Shen Ling suddenly heard footsteps.

He shut his eyes immediately. He felt someone push the door open, walk to the bed, and sit down very quietly.

A hand with sharp knuckles slipped under the blanket, lifted his wrist, and something cool touched his skin.

It was a bracelet.

The metal slowly warmed against his skin, fitting snugly around Shen Ling's thin wrist like it was custom-made.

The cold of the bracelet made Shen Ling's lashes flutter involuntarily.

He didn't hear any footsteps leaving.

"Can't sleep?"

Shen Ling opened his eyes and met Huo Yanshen's gaze. He blinked, a little embarrassed. "...How did you know?"

"I slept too much the past few days," he added quietly, his voice a little hoarse.

Huo Yanshen didn't say anything. He just reached out and scooped Shen Ling up, blanket and all. Shen Ling was bundled up like a chubby burrito, only his head sticking out as he tilted his face up to look at him.

Huo Yanshen tapped the bracelet on his wrist. "Health data, location tracking—everything's in there. Wear it every day."

Shen Ling looked at the bracelet in the moonlight coming through the window.

In his past life, Huo Yanshen had put something similar on him too. Back then, he'd thrown a huge fit, feeling like he was being monitored. Now, wearing it again, the cool band around his wrist felt oddly reassuring. It was nice having someone take care of him.

"Mhm." He obediently acknowledged.

"Good boy," Huo Yanshen said, patting his back through the blanket. "Go to sleep."

The blanket was thin, so Shen Ling could clearly feel the warmth coming off Huo Yanshen's body.

Held like this in his arms, Shen Ling's heart suddenly began to beat a little faster.

He suddenly remembered his past life—every time Huo Yanshen pushed him too far, he'd bury his face in Huo Yanshen's chest and sob, crying and cursing at the same time. After the cursing, Huo Yanshen would hold him and rub his stomach, soothing him until he drifted off.

Eventually, he even started picking fights on purpose, just to be comforted like that.

Shen Ling's face quietly turned red in the dark.

He was lost in his thoughts when his nose suddenly twitched.

A faint metallic smell—blood—drifted over from somewhere very close, even though he clearly wasn't injured.

Shen Ling sniffed again, confirming it wasn't his imagination, and his eyes snapped open.

"You're hurt?"