Chapter 98: The Greatest Joke Under Heaven

He rose and stepped outside, soon returning with a bowl of rice noodles in broth. As he fed me, I shed my pretenses; I needed to fill my stomach before I could continue to spar with him. A servant came in and whispered into his ear. He nodded, helped me lie down, kissed my forehead, and left with the servant.

Yet no matter how hard I tried, sleep evaded me. Suddenly, I felt like a lost lamb, uncertain where to turn. Though Shu Congxuan was safe, Luo Ange was a beast—leopard, lion, tiger, and wolf all in one. Compared to him, Shu Congxuan was but a gentle lamb, a calf, a Little Red Riding Hood—hardly a match.

In a war between a lamb and a lion, the outcome was predetermined.

I had thought of myself as an unyielding stone—unbroken, unfeeling. Even if Luo Ange were a saw cutting me apart, I would not feel pain. But what I cared about were the flowers and grass beside that stone. If the saw cut me, it would surely turn on them, destroying the entire forest.

Standing on the balcony, the breeze brushing against me, I gazed upon the city's splendid nightscape, my heart twisting in turmoil. A coat was draped over my shoulders, and an embrace settled behind me, enveloping me in a familiar scent. Before I could turn, a hand gently turned my face, and lips pressed against mine.

It was a lingering, passionate kiss. I neither resisted nor returned it. But the perverse man’s kissing skills were too good, and my willpower always faltered before him. Soon, I was dizzy and disoriented, to the point where I forgot even who my mother was.

At last, he led me back to the room. I sat on the bed, a storm of emotions swirling inside me, watching him change without shame. His chest was still wrapped in white bandages—so bright they almost hurt my eyes. I turned away, my eyes and nose burning, and pulled the blanket over my head.

The bed shifted behind me as he climbed in, wrapping his arms around me. His scorching breath brushed my neck. I buried my face in the pillow and wept silently.

In the middle of the night, I woke, drenched in heat. Half-asleep, I thought the pain came from my wounds. But when I opened my eyes, I saw the pervert’s leg thrown over mine, his body radiating heat like a furnace.

I tapped his face, but there was no response—he lay as if lifeless.

Terrified, I jumped from the bed, but dared not make a sound. Unsure where Long Jue and Zhu Bang were staying, I knocked on door after door until the last one opened.

It was the man who had once forbidden Long Jue from hurting me. Gentle and refined, like a college student, his name seemed to be Zhou Yang. I grabbed him and fled toward Luo Ange’s room.

Inside, he frowned upon seeing the scene, began making calls, and rifled through drawers. Failing to find what he sought, he kicked over a triangular cabinet and shouted something at me. Though I couldn’t hear the words, the hatred in his voice was clear.

Frozen, I sat on the bed, feeling Luo Ange’s body heat like a furnace pressing against me. I grabbed paper and pen, scribbled a note to Zhou Yang, pleading for him to take Luo Ange to the hospital before it was too late.

Instead of listening, he snatched the paper, crumpled it, and threw it at my face. Suddenly he grabbed me, and I panicked at the sensation of falling, clutching his clothes tightly. He strode to the door, intent on throwing me out.

But I clung to the doorframe, innocent eyes gazing up at him.

He rolled his eyes, dropped me by the sofa near the door, and forbade me from approaching Luo Ange again.

Then he lifted the unconscious Luo Ange with ease, as if carrying a bundle of cotton.

Long Jue and Zhu Bang appeared simultaneously, working together to load the burning, fainted Luo Ange into the car. Only then did I realize how drenched in sweat I was from anxiety.

Long Jue beckoned me to get in, but upon catching his murderous glare, I hesitated and shook my head, refusing. He smiled slightly and didn’t force me. The car drove off swiftly.

Back in my room, my hands trembled uncontrollably. I was restless, counting sheep in my mind, but even at the thousandth, sleep refused me. I rose again.

The silence of my world was terrifying. It wasn’t until Zhou Yang and the others returned near dawn that I found some peace.

They went straight to their rooms, no one telling me how Luo Ange was. I dared not ask.

At breakfast, the servants were quiet, and Zhou Yang and company were absent. I ate without a sound, then wandered into the garden, noticing a servant trailing me.

They were overly cautious. To fall twice in the same place was shameful; how could I dare to run again?

For three or four days, none of those people appeared. The doctor came daily to check on me, but aside from the scars healing, there was no progress.

Sometimes words bubbled at my tongue’s tip, only to vanish the moment I tried to speak. At first, there were faint sounds; later, even those died away.

The housekeeper, a middle-aged woman close in age to my mother, was skilled at beautiful handwriting. She always carried a little notebook to communicate with me.

She said I was the most tenacious girl she had ever met, and that she had never seen Luo Ange treat a girl so well.

That’s when I learned that after Long Jue took me away without permission, Luo Ange, ignoring doctors’ advice, had run out of the hospital to find me, running through a dozen red lights to stop me.

In the garden stood a massive persimmon tree, its branches weighed down by golden clusters that snapped many limbs. The housekeeper and servants picked the fruit daily, but threw most into the trash.

I thought it a pity and began making persimmon cakes. Amused, she ordered all the persimmons picked for me to use freely.

Thanks to the favorable climate, most of the cakes turned out well. Each day, I would turn them in the garden, the breeze lifting my skirt. Sometimes I fancied that life like this wasn’t so bad—at least no one disturbed me.

One afternoon, as I sat on the balcony enjoying the breeze, the housekeeper entered, informing me that guests had arrived and asked me to come downstairs.

I hadn’t expected the visitor to be Guan Shanyuan. Seeing him instantly reminded me he was the top authority in Jingnan City—this place was his domain.

That day, the beautiful girl I’d seen in the hospital was with him, standing obediently by his side. They looked perfectly matched, as if made for each other.

I smiled awkwardly, uncertain of his purpose.

He was Luo Ange’s brother. He must know I had hurt his brother. Was he here to demand justice?

He smiled at me, then whispered to the girl beside him. She smiled and nodded, taking a seat beside me.

Guan Shanyuan grabbed a paper and pen from the coffee table and quickly wrote: “He’s been unconscious, calling your name continuously. He just woke up. Do you want to see him?”

I shook my head. What were we to each other? Was I his caged songbird, or something else?

He had hurt me and my friends. I wished he were dead. How could I bear to see him?

Guan’s wife wrote: “He’s had chronic headaches for years. This time it’s severe. You two love each other so much; you should see him.”

I sneered. Love?

What a cruel joke. The man who had taken my most precious things and harmed my dearest friend—how could I love him?

Guan Shanyuan sighed and asked: “Do you still not understand? If he didn’t love you, why would he do so much?”

I was taken aback and replied: “But I don’t love him.”

He smiled: “He loves you, and you love him—you just won’t admit it.”

I answered firmly: “I truly don’t love him.”

He continued writing: “If you didn’t love him, why did you hesitate to kill him when you had the chance?”

To avoid dwelling on this futile topic, I agreed to go to the hospital with them.

Guan Shanyuan led me out of the elevator. My steps slowed; he turned back patiently, waiting for me.

I quickly wrote a note saying I would only look at Luo Ange from the doorway and wouldn’t enter.

He nodded, signaling he would wait for me and urging me to be quick.

The corridor was silent. I tiptoed to peek inside.

The room held only Luo Ange. Reclining half in bed, he rubbed his temples, clearly in pain. After a moment, he reached for a bottle in the drawer, poured some pills, and raised a water cup.

Just as I turned to leave, he suddenly collapsed from the bed. The glass shattered, pills scattered.

Seeing him curled up and writhing on the floor, I could no longer hold back and rushed in.

I knelt, lifting him. His head was drenched in sweat, limbs convulsing in agony.

It must be his chronic headache acting up; the pills were likely painkillers.

I pressed on his temples, massaging gently. He finally eased somewhat.

I helped him back onto the bed, then rang the nurse’s call bell and summoned Guan Shanyuan inside.

Luo Ange looked utterly weak; sweat dripped from his hair like he’d just bathed.

I thought I was impervious, but seeing him like this, it felt as if someone had thrown chili powder into my heart, making tears stream uncontrollably. Yet I dared not let him see.

The doctor and Guan Shanyuan came in. I stepped aside, watching quietly.

The doctor spoke with Guan Shanyuan, who then sat by Luo Ange’s bed, speaking to him. Luo Ange shook his head.

Guan Shanyuan and the doctor left together, seemingly having a private discussion.

I started to leave, but Luo Ange suddenly opened his eyes, beckoning me.

Compelled, I stood before him. He grasped my hand and placed it on his temple, signaling for a massage.

I withdrew my hand in stubbornness, turning to leave, but he pulled me back into an embrace.

He held me quietly. After a while, he turned me to face him, seeing my tears streaming down, and sat me down, wiping them away with his sleeve.

I pulled out paper and pen, scribbling a few lines and tossing them to him: “Do as you will. From now on, I owe you nothing, and you owe me nothing—we are even. If you still hold feelings, then let me go. Don’t trouble my friends anymore. If you can’t, then just kill me now.”

He glanced at the note, then looked deeply into my eyes with a piercing gaze that made my heart flutter.

He stared for three long minutes before taking the pen and writing: “Would you rather die than stay by my side?”

I nodded firmly. He smiled and asked: “What if I insist you stay, and I persist in troubling your friends?”