Chapter 51: "Qiao Zhen, I Want You"

Yuwen Jian had already had a bit to drink, his words tumbling out in a drunken haze, stripping himself bare:
“So what if you don't accept her or care about her? I’m willing to give her a title! What’s wrong with letting me have some fun with her?”
Have some fun...
Ji Xian’s heart clenched in sudden pain, a chill of fear surging through him.
He reached out and clamped his hand around Yuwen Jian’s throat, fingers tightening with deadly intent, as if he truly meant to strangle him right there.
Ji Xian’s fists were clenched hard, and he landed punch after punch on Yuwen Jian’s face, his voice cold as ice:
“I’ll talk to your father and see to it that you’re sent abroad.”
He couldn’t help but admit—right now, he felt nothing but overwhelming relief. Relief that she was unharmed.
Otherwise, banishing Yuwen Jian from the country would have been far too mild a punishment.
Yuwen Jian, gasping, nearly suffocated under Ji Xian’s grip, his entire body wracked with pain, bones feeling as though they were coming apart. He collapsed to the ground, blood streaming down his face.
Years of pent-up frustration and humiliation, fueled by heavy alcohol, erupted at this moment.
Yuwen Jian, pushed to the edge, gave in to his rage. He lay on the ground, lips curling into a twisted smile, voice harsh and grating:
“Ji Xian, you’re emotionally stunted. You’re fucking worthless!”
“You’re the one who silently allowed us to mock and belittle Qiao Zhen. You’re the one who kept her hanging, refusing to respond. And now, what, you want to play the part of the devoted lover?”
At those words, Ji Xian felt as if he’d plunged into an icy abyss, his face frozen in a mask of shock.
He knew it was true. His attitude set the tone for everyone around him.
He had allowed those near him to deride and mock Qiao Zhen, even observed her from above, watching her disappointment, her sorrow, her humility...
But no matter what, Qiao Zhen always chased after him, heart brimming with love.
Because he was afraid of loss and betrayal, he constantly needed to test and prove Qiao Zhen’s affection, which was why he always treated her so coldly.
Yet it seemed—
He had never truly considered Qiao Zhen’s feelings.
Had he ever wondered if she was hurt by the mockery? If it drained her confidence and passion? If she ever crouched alone in a corner, crying in secret?
Never, not once, had he given it any thought. He had never cared.
Yuwen Jian’s laughter grew wild, his sanity frayed, each word a hoarse scream:
“All your life, everyone’s had to revolve around you, to hold you up. But look around—do you have any real friends? Is there anyone who truly cares for you? If it weren’t for your status as the Ji family’s heir, who the hell would bother with you?!”
The silent, ink-black night made even the rustle of the wind seem colder, sharper.
Yuwen Jian’s words were piercing, resounding in his ears like a megaphone, echoing madly in his mind.
Ji Xian closed his reddened eyes, his face darkening, features growing ever more severe. “Qiao Zhen loves me. She’s sincere.”
But Yuwen Jian, seeing straight through him, sneered, “So what? She doesn’t want you anymore.”
Ji Xian instantly retorted, his voice stubborn and icy: “Impossible!”
He was the only one who could reject Qiao Zhen. How could she possibly reject him?
A strange bitterness welled up within Ji Xian. He walked alone down the street, his figure swallowed bit by bit by the ink-black night.
Like an ancient, snow-capped mountain, his shadow stretched ever longer in the cold wind, desolate and lonely.

Ji Xian’s headache worsened, and he sucked in a sharp breath, cold sweat beading on his forehead as he leaned helplessly against the wall, his face deathly pale.
The world spun dizzily.
Memories from his previous life surged into his mind, invading his thoughts inch by inch:
Qiao Zhen had followed him for seven years; even when the Ji family suffered a heavy blow, teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, she never left, always at his side, full of hope...
These images flickered through his mind like a slow-motion film, then suddenly stopped, the future uncertain.
Were these... fragments from his past life?
A look of disbelief flickered in Ji Xian’s eyes as clarity returned to his gaze.
Gradually, the chill on his face melted away and his panic faded.
In his previous life, Qiao Zhen had stayed by his side for so many years, her world revolving around him—how could she leave so easily now...?
Bathed in pale moonlight, Ji Xian’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes dark with brewing storm.
He promised himself—this would be the last test, the last trial.
As long as Qiao Zhen returned, admitted her fault, he would forgive her and accept her...
It was half past one in the morning.
Once again, Qiao Zhen dreamed of being abandoned as a child, her grandmother locking her in the pitch-dark storage room.
She jerked awake, gasping for breath.
But she was still groggy, the alcohol not yet worn off.
Her head throbbed painfully, and she instinctively turned to the side. “Qin Yichi...”
But the chair was empty.
Qin Yichi was nowhere to be seen.
Qiao Zhen froze, stunned.
He’d left while she slept.
A wave of bitterness surged in her chest, her heart aching and numb, a helplessness so heavy she could barely breathe.
Liar.
Her eyes grew misty, a sharp ache in her nose, and tears slid helplessly down her cheeks.
It was as if her only support had suddenly collapsed.
She covered her face in despair, choking on her sobs. “Qin Yichi... why did you leave me too? Why...”
Suddenly, a low voice boomed from the bathroom:
“Qiao Zhen, stop crying! I’m not dead yet!”
Qin Yichi’s voice carried through the door.
Qiao Zhen’s sobs halted abruptly, her mind blank, caught off guard by a hiccup.
She sat there, dazed for a long moment before she came back to herself.
Following the sound, she clumsily wrapped herself in the quilt and tried to crawl toward the bathroom—only to tumble to the floor with a thud.
Her head struck hard against the nightstand.

It hurt...
Fighting back tears, Qiao Zhen dragged herself bit by bit to the bathroom door, kneeling and reaching for the handle.
With a click, the door swung open—it hadn’t been locked.
Qiao Zhen froze for a couple of seconds, then, after careful consideration, peeked her head inside.
Hearing the door open, Qin Yichi hurriedly pulled up his pants, his ears instantly turning scarlet, flustered and angry:
“Qiao Zhen, what are you doing?!”
Kneeling at the doorway, Qiao Zhen’s pajamas were inside out, hair a tangled mess, a few stray strands stuck to her face. She tilted her head to look at him.
Her cheeks were soft and pale, streaked with tears; crystal drops clung to her chin like broken pearls.
Qin Yichi stared, thunderstruck.
His heart twisted in pain, aching so fiercely he wanted nothing more than to scoop it out and beg her to stop crying.
Qiao Zhen slowly gathered her wits, blinking her eyes. “I... I came to find you.”
Drunk, Qiao Zhen was unreasonable, her mind clouded.
Qin Yichi choked on his words, pausing, at a loss for how to respond.
It turned out boys, too, should always lock the door and protect themselves when out in the world.
After washing his hands, Qin Yichi stepped forward, picked Qiao Zhen up, and tucked her back under the covers, his face stern.
“No more crying!” He sat on the chair beside the bed, gently rubbing her face with his thumb to wipe away her tears, his tone a little gruff.
Qiao Zhen clung tightly to his other hand. “I won’t cry, I promise, please don’t be angry...”
Qin Yichi’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m not angry.”
As if under a spell, he reached out and pressed his finger into her cheek, sinking deep into her soft skin.
Her face was pale and delicate, as soft as a piece of marshmallow.
He could never get tired of poking it.
With a deep breath, Qin Yichi quickly pulled his hand back, his neck flushing hot.
Qiao Zhen burrowed under the covers, her lashes fluttering. “Qin Yichi, I really thought you’d left me too... because everyone else has...”
Her mind was a tangled mess, old wounds surfacing.
“It seems... I’ve never been a very lucky person.”
She lowered her eyes, her voice dull and lost, repeating:
“They all left me...”
Qiao Zhen buried her head in the blankets, a thick, suffocating weight pressing on her heart.
Why did she feel so unbearably sad?
She wiped away her tears in secret, rolling over, determined to go back to sleep.
But just as she was drifting off, she seemed to hear Qin Yichi’s voice through the covers, distant and unclear.
He said, “I want you.”