Chapter 58: Iām Listening to You for the Last Time
Jian An looked down at his wrist. Without him realizing it, blood was dripping from the bandages where Ji Songting held him. The bright, piercing crimson made his heart skip a beat.
He struggled desperately to break free from Ji Songting’s grip, but the other man only tightened his hold. The force was so great it felt as if Ji Songting wanted to crush him into pieces.
“Ji Songting! Let go of me!”
He shouted through gritted teeth, trying to move his legs, but a sudden, sharp pain caused his strength to vanish instantly. He couldn’t help but suck in a cold breath, his body trembling almost imperceptibly.
“Try moving again and see what happens.”
The manās icy voice carried a heavy warning. His gaze was filled with an inviolable authority and pressure. Failing to notice Jian Anās unnaturally pale lips, he continued coldly:
“Do you believe I could kill you right now?”
Upon hearing this, Jian Anās hand stiffened for a moment. Then, he lifted his eyelids and met the man’s gaze without a shred of fear. His clear eyes were filled with a haunting calm, and his tone was neither hot nor cold as he spoke:
“Ji Songting, the wound on my hand is already bleeding because of your grip. You can just let me die from blood loss right now…! Thereās no need to kill me.”
Ji Songting froze. His face remained expressionless, but a cold glint flickered in his deep, dark eyes as he turned his head with a look of half-doubt.
Sure enough, the wrist he was gripping so tightly was now covered in blood. Crimson liquid trickled down, staining Ji Songtingās black leather shoes and turning his own hand a vivid red.
“I…”
Shock registered on Ji Songtingās face. He hurriedly released the wrist and looked down at his blood-stained palm before looking back at the swaying youth, who seemed to be on the verge of collapsing despite the look of relief on his face. For a moment, the CEO was at a total loss, struck by disbelief.
He clearly hadn’t used that much strength just now. Why did this person suddenly look like he was at deathās door…?
Complex emotions swirled in Ji Songtingās eyes. He reached out, wanting to pull the manās arm toward him to check the injury, but Jian An shrank back like a startled rabbit. The youth covered his bleeding wound and huddled in the corner, avoiding the manās touch. His lips trembled violently as he whispered:
“Don’t… don’t come any closer…”
Seeing the man look so terrified, as if he were being brutally abused, Ji Songting felt a surge of unprovoked irritation. He turned and kicked the sofa heavily, shouting toward the hallway:
“Chen Ma! Bring the first-aid kit!”
“Coming, Young Master! I’m getting it right now!”
A moment later, Chen Ma ran in, panting as she cradled the medical box.
When she saw the floor covered in glass shards and red liquid, her face paled with shock. Her hands shook as she set the box down. Her eyes immediately landed on Ji Songtingās hand, where the blood had begun to dry. She began to fret with heartache:
“Young Master, what happened to your hand? Why is there so much blood? You were fine just a moment ago. No, we must go to the hospital to have it disinfected!”
Ji Songting instinctively pulled his hand away from her calloused grip and let out a light cough. His previously violent voice returned to its usual deep, cold indifference.
“I’m fine. The blood isn’t mine.”
Hearing this, Chen Ma let out a slow sigh of relief. It was only when her peripheral vision swept behind him that she noticed Jian An shivering in the corner. Her previous surprise turned into even greater shock:
“Mr. Jian… you? Is the blood yours?!”
Ji Songtingās face was etched with irritation. He rubbed his temples and dismissed her: “Chen Ma, leave us.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
Chen Ma clearly heard the impatience in his voice. She could only nod and turn to leave, though she couldn’t help but steal one last glance at Jian An before she went.
A trace of pity flickered in her slightly clouded eyes. She let out a silent sigh, and knowing she couldn’t say more, she hurried out of the living room.
Ji Songting sat on the sofa behind him. With a slight frown, he casually opened the medical kit and took out the hemostatic medicine and bandages, lining them up on the coffee table.
He glanced sideways at the person who looked ready to faint from the pain. He rareley softened his voice, though his tone remained as cold as ever:
“Come here.”
Was he calling for him…?
Jian An stood rooted to the spot, hesitating. He looked silently at the man on the sofa, unable to fathom what was going through his mind.
Clearly, it was this man who had reduced him to this half-dead state. Why bother with such redundant, even contradictory, actions now?
The bandage on his wrist was now completely soaked in blood. The sharp pain cleared his muddled brain slightly, but his lips grew paler from the blood loss.
“Get over here. I don’t like repeating myself.”
Ji Songtingās hand tightened around the medicine bottle, causing a few drops to splash onto the table. When the medicine touched the cuts on his palm from the shattered glass, it stung like fire.
Yet he seemed not to feel the pain at all. His eyes were as cold as ice, and his voice was deep, carrying an air of command and a chilling edge.
The sudden flare of anger startled Jian An. He froze for a few seconds before his instinctive, bone-deep reaction forced him to walk forward.
“Sit down.”
Ji Songting leaned against the sofa, his legs habitually crossed. His long, fair fingers rested on the bottle as he slowly unscrewed the cap, but the slight knit of his brows still betrayed his impatience.
Even when he was quiet and not losing his temper, he radiated an innate noble aura that made people afraid to look him in the eye.
A glimmer rippled in Jian Anās eyes, reflecting a chaotic swirl of emotionsāsorrow, endurance, but above all, an uncontrollable love.
If only time could stop right here. If only I could stay like this, looking at him until we both grew old…
At that thought, Jian An shook his head hard to banish those unrealistic fantasies. For a moment, he felt he was truly beyond saving.
He had already said he was giving up. Why was he still being so pathetic?
Jian An bit his lip and could only compromise. He sat down tremulously on the very edge of the sofa, keeping as much distance as possible between himself and the man. Yet his heart, which had supposedly died long ago, began to beat frantically, as if it wanted to leap out of his chest.
This was the first time the two of them had ever sat together so calmly on the same piece of furniture, yet it was happening under these circumstances.
Ji Songtingās expression darkened. His eyes filled with rage and impatience, and his voice turned cold once more:
“Why are you sitting so far away? Do I have to go over there myself? Youād better not die in front of me.”
“Iām listening to you for the last time…”
Jian An spoke softly, his voice light and airy. He moved closer to the man, his previously dull eyes suddenly clearing. They held a sense of acceptance and liberation.
Hearing those words, Ji Songtingās heart skipped a beat for no reason. His first reaction wasn’t the usual anger Jian An provoked, but a strange, indefinable feelingāone that seemed laced with sorrow.
He pretended not to hear the sentence. The look of loss on his face vanished in an instant, replaced by his usual icy mask, as if he didn’t care about the words at all.
He then roughly grabbed the youth’s skeletal hand. Ignoring the pain he was causing, he violently tore away the blood-soaked bandage, exposing the hideous, mangled scars left by the car accident.
Jian An sucked in a sharp breath of pain, yet his brow didn’t even twitch. He turned his head away, unwilling to look at the bloody mess. His arm remained perfectly still in the man’s grasp, but the bone-chilling temperature of Ji Songtingās hand felt agonizingly real.
If this had happened before the accident, being held so tightly by this man would have made him so excited he wouldn’t have been able to sleep. But now, his heart barely rippled.
Does this mean I’ve finally given up?
Does this mean I’ve finally let go…?
He was so, so tired. It turned out that loving someone with all your might without receiving anything in return was exhausting.
The sight of the deep, bone-exposing wound on the youth’s arm stung Ji Songtingās eyes. A faint, almost imperceptible trace of heartache actually flickered across his cold, ruthless face.
The scabbed-over wound had been torn open along with the bandage, revealing raw, bloody flesh. Crimson blood trailed down the white arm and onto the sofa, looking like a series of winding earthworms. It was a shocking sight.
It clearly looked painful, yet the other man didn’t make a single sound. This caught Ji Songting by surprise.
When did Jian An become so strong?
He was a world away from the Jian An he rememberedāthe one who would cry over every little bump or scrape. They were like two different people.
Ji Songting wasn’t used to this calm, dignified attitude. He found it hard to believe the man was faking his injuries.
Moreover, in his memory, Jian An was obsessed with painting and had always kept his hands in perfect condition to hold a brush. He was so careful he even wore gloves while doing chores. Now that his arm was ruined like this, how did he feel?
Ji Songting couldn’t read him. He should have felt a sense of satisfaction and joy that Jian An could no longer pick up a brush, but right now, his heart felt unusually heavy and restless. He couldn’t find any room for mockery.
Ever since the man had been under the knife in the operating room after the crash, Ji Songting had been plagued by these confusing emotions. What exactly was wrong with him?
“Will it leave a scar?”
Lost in his thoughts, Jian An suddenly heard the man ask the question with total nonchalance. His arm gave an involuntary shiver, but there was no joy in his heart. Instead, he found the question bizarre.
Was he concerned?
Or was it that only such an ugly scar could make him look even more pathetic and laughable?
He leaned toward the latter.
After all, Ji Songting hated him. Their enmity was as deep as the sea. The man wished he were a cripple for the rest of his life, or perhaps that he had died in that accident.
So why ask such a thing…?
Jian An couldn’t find an answer. He merely gave a dim, mocking smile and asked warily:
“What exactly are you after? If I told you it wouldn’t leave a scar, would you be disappointed?”
Ji Songting froze. A fierce light flared in his eyes. He released his grip, letting the blood-stained bandage flutter to the floor.
Recommended Reads
