Chapter 47: You Have to Learn to Trust Me
The car screeched to a halt in front of the hospital.
The sign for the Nan City First People’s Hospital glowed with a red hue, and lights blazed from every building in the complex. Even at this hour, the lights in the inpatient wards had not been extinguished.
Wen Yan remained on high alert, his eyes darting around the crowd, terrified that Pei Zhouye might emerge from some dark corner at any second.
The inpatient department, fifth floor.
He was alone in the elevator, yet his sixth sense screamed with a growing unease, so intense he wanted to flee the confined space immediately.
Finally, the elevator stopped.
Wen Yan let out a breath of relief.
Just a few more steps and he would see his parents. He could figure out how to explain everything later.
Head lowered, Wen Yan was busy formulating a lie or an excuse when a brute force suddenly struck him from behind. A hand, strong as an iron pincer, clamped onto his shoulder blade and violently dragged him in another direction.
He instinctively tried to cry for help, but his mouth and nose were covered tightly. Not a sound could escape. The dizziness of hypoxia surged like a tide, draining his strength away.
Sensing his struggles weakening, the hand suddenly loosened a single index finger, stingily granting him a sliver of a chance to breathe.
The door to the emergency stairwell was slammed open and then shut, cutting off the last ray of light before Wen Yan’s eyes.
In the thick, suffocating darkness, he heard a familiar, light chuckle from behind him.
“Wen Yan,” a scorching breath branded itself behind his ear. “I gave you a chance.”
“Why can’t you just trust me?”
Pei Zhouye’s voice was hoarse, exhausted, yet laced with a fanatical madness. Wen Yan trembled instinctively in pure terror.
Eight glasses of wine. He had given Wen Yan the chance of eight glasses. Each time, he had kept his promise and drank without hesitation.
Wen Yan had performed well, yet he still hadn’t learned to trust him.
The hand covering his mouth released him, only for a scorching kiss to land immediately—fierce and urgent.
The cry for help vanished into the kiss.
Pei Zhouye maliciously bit into Wen Yan’s lower lip until it broke.
When he finally let go, Wen Yan stopped struggling. He turned his head away, breathing rapidly, and used his last ounce of strength to roar, “Get out!”
“Baby, shout a little louder. That way, everyone will know we’re kissing in here,” the low, raspy voice whispered in his ear.
That was the reason Wen Yan stopped struggling.
In the darkness, Wen Yan could faintly make out Pei Zhouye’s silhouette and the smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
Wen Yan broke down. His hands were still tightly pinned by the other man. His roar of resentment and collapse turned into a ruthless bite on Pei Zhouye’s neck.
He held nothing back. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as warm beads of blood seeped from the skin beneath his teeth.
Pei Zhouye didn’t utter a sound of pain. instead, he casually used his free hand to hug Wen Yan a little tighter.
“Wife, you treat me so well,” Pei Zhouye murmured to himself, his voice very low. “I thought you were going to poison me to death. I didn’t expect it to be just sleeping pills.”
Mixed with the beads of blood, Wen Yan’s warm tears fell onto Pei Zhouye’s neck, rolling down to his collarbone and pooling in the small hollow there—a tiny red lake.
Pain, struggle, and helplessness. And an indescribable agony.
Pei Zhouye’s hand stroked his hair with a morbid tenderness. “If you want me dead, you can use a knife. Stab me in the heart, the artery, anywhere. If it’s you, I won’t resist or struggle. I just don’t like poison.”
“I never thought about killing anyone,” Wen Yan finally spoke, his voice thick with suppressed sobs. “I just wanted to see my parents.”
“Pei Zhouye, you’re sick, but I’m not! Murder is a crime.”
The words were spoken through gritted teeth, filled with hatred, but because of the sobbing tone, they held no lethality whatsoever.
Pei Zhouye actually felt a bit like laughing.
Wen Yan was angry and resentful. He had no idea how Pei Zhouye, after ingesting a sleeping pill and two bottles of red wine, was still standing here perfectly fine.
“Didn’t I say I’d take you to see Uncle and Auntie in a few days?” Pei Zhouye lowered his head and kissed the crown of Wen Yan’s soft hair, his voice gentle and lingering. “I will do what I promised. Wen Yan, you have to learn to trust me.”
“If you stay by my side obediently, you will have everything you want,” he said softly.
As long as he could afford it, he was willing to give Wen Yan anything he desired.
Unfortunately, Wen Yan didn’t want his money, didn’t want his life, and certainly didn’t want his love.
Wen Yan disdained such illusory promises and methods of gaining trust; he would never believe them.
“I want to see my parents,” Wen Yan said, head bowed.
He had said it so many times.
There were so many opportunities along the way to drag him back, but Pei Zhouye waited until he reached the fifth floor, mere inches from the ward, before dragging him away.
Pei Zhouye gave him hope, only to shatter it with his own hands.
Perhaps the cat-and-mouse game was fun for Pei Zhouye. He had even developed a physiological reaction in this situation.
Wen Yan let out a scornful laugh, adding in a flat voice, “After I see them, you can do whatever you want.”
The intimate posture of their embrace and the soft, level tone of their conversation made them look exactly like a pair of intimate lovers.
Pei Zhouye chuckled low. Wen Yan couldn’t tell if it was scorn or triumph.
“You said it.”
“Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I will come with you.”
Wen Yan didn’t answer, silently accepting the terms.
Pei Zhouye released him, picked up his phone, and dialed a number, his voice turning cold. “Everyone, retreat.”
A “Yes” came from the other end.
Wen Yan lowered his head in thought, guessing how many people Pei Zhouye had arranged to block him.
Indeed, it couldn’t have gone so smoothly. The only problem he encountered on the way was the taxi driver taking a wrong turn.
They didn’t go home. Pei Zhouye led him to the emergency department for follow-up treatment.
The nurse wrote in her notebook while instructing them, “Next time, absolutely do not mix sleeping pills with alcohol. It’s a good thing you already performed the Heimlich maneuver at home and induced vomiting. There wasn’t much residue left in the stomach…”
When Pei Zhouye was brought in, the accompanying assistant had explained clearly that professional first aid had already been administered, and the stomach pumping was just a precautionary measure.
Wen Yan looked up in surprise, finally seeing Pei Zhouye clearly under the bright lights.
His face was pale and weak, lips pressed together, expression indifferent and calm, without a trace of blame.
The nurse finally finished speaking and asked them to stay for observation a while longer.
Pei Zhouye pulled him to sit on the row of chairs in the emergency corridor, his fingers still tightly clasping Wen Yan’s wrist like an invisible shackle.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know they couldn’t be mixed.”
Wen Yan hung his head, brows furrowed. He felt resistance and anger toward Pei Zhouye, but his apology and guilt were also sincere.
He had just been afraid—afraid the drug wouldn’t be strong enough.
He had drugged him at night because even if he got out, he wouldn’t be able to find a taxi. But during the day, there was no suitable opportunity to make Pei Zhouye eat or drink anything.
As for the red wine, he had tested Pei Zhouye’s tolerance step by step but couldn’t find his limit. He was terrified he wouldn’t get him drunk.
“It doesn’t matter.” Pei Zhouye had a bruise on his arm from the blood draw.
He looked at it for a moment, then added, “I have a tough life. I’m not afraid of death.”
If he were meant to die, he would have died long ago. That person hadn’t managed to kill him after all those years; this was nothing.
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