Drink This Bowl Of Dog Blood! [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 11

Song Yanxing and Ye Hui walked one after the other onto the glass terrace behind the house and sat in the chairs by the coffee table. The whistling cold wind rattled against the windows. Although the room was well-heated, a slight chill still seeped through.

Song Yanxing lifted the teapot, rinsed the leaves, and poured the hot tea into a cup before sliding it across the table. “Ripe Pu-erh. It warms the stomach and aids digestion.”

“Thank you.” Ye Hui reached out to take it, his heart feeling increasingly bitter. Regardless of the state of their relationship, Song Yanxing was always a gentleman who never made others feel embarrassed. He took a deep breath, clenched his hands, and looked up at Song Yanxing. “I am sorry. Before, I…”

“Shh,” Song Yanxing interjected, shaking his head slightly with a faint smile. “It is all in the past.” He then casually reached for the microphone clipped to his collar, unclipped it, and decisively turned it off.

Ye Hui watched his movements, his eyes widening as his heart tightened.

“Ye Hui,” Song Yanxing looked at him, thinking of the original host’s devoted heart that had been treated as a substitute. He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “In fact, you only married me because I resembled that person, did you not? The old me used to wonder what I had done wrong, and I slowly began to doubt myself more and more. Even after finding out I was a substitute, I still wondered if you might have liked me even just a little bit.”

The man’s voice was as warm and refined as ever. It carried no trace of emotion, yet it made Ye Hui’s face turn ashen. His mouth opened slightly, but he could say nothing.

“It ended a long time ago. From the day you proposed the divorce terms, I would not and could not forgive everything you did on behalf of the person I used to be.”

“Ye Hui, I am looking forward.”

“So, do not look back either.”

Ye Hui’s face grew even paler with every word Song Yanxing spoke, until almost all color had vanished.

“We have nothing left to discuss. Get some rest.” Song Yanxing stood up, looking at the dazed man.

However, as he reached the door, his sleeve was lightly tugged. Ye Hui knew exactly what he was doing. Logic told him that once Song Yanxing stepped through that door, they would be completely finished. But he was unwilling. Clearly, this man had once loved him so passionately.

Song Yanxing moved a step to the side, disengaging his arm from Ye Hui’s hand. “Is there something else?”

Ye Hui lowered his eyes to hide his emotions, but his voice was thick with unavoidable bitterness. “So, do you like him?”

Even though he already knew the answer in his heart, he stubbornly wanted to hear it.

Song Yanxing answered without hesitation, “Yes.”

Looking at the defeated man, Song Yanxing slowly asked the final question: “And you? Do you still love Chi Ting?”

Ye Hui did not know how he made it back to his room. He was still in a daze when he sat down on his bed. When Song Yanxing asked that question, the answer had appeared in his heart.

His unrequited love for Chi Ting was more of a youthful admiration. Perhaps he had not been seeking a substitute because of a slight resemblance, but rather he had been truly moved by the Song Yanxing of that time. He had simply been blinded by his own preconceived notions and misjudged the true source of his heartbeat.

[Your X did not choose you.]

Ye Hui realized with a jolt that he had truly lost someone who had loved him deeply.

In Song Yanxing’s mind, the mechanical voice rang out.

【Ding! Numerical values have changed. Mission value has reached 50%.】

In the early morning, Song Yanxing woke with a start from a dream. He sat up, discovering he was drenched in a cold sweat, the scenes from the dream still vivid in his mind.

Unable to sleep, he picked up the glass from his nightstand and pushed open his door, intending to make a cup of honey water to help him rest. Just as he stepped out, he saw two people hurriedly entering Tan Qiuyi’s room while muttering.

“How did he suddenly get a fever? Grab that thick coat.”

“Exactly. He was fine a few days ago. Should we tell the Old Madam?” another person asked.

“Better not. She will just make us tell Zuo Yi to force them together. We would be caught in the middle, and it would be so awkward.”

“True. Parents should not force matches. They finally got a divorce, and yet…” Before the speaker could finish, their companion nudged their arm.

They looked up and saw a man standing in the doorway opposite them. They immediately recognized him as the other protagonist of the “Xing-Yi” pairing that netizens had been obsessively shipping since the first episode aired.

“What is wrong with him?” Song Yanxing asked, looking down. The man’s aura was commanding; even just standing there, he exerted a subtle pressure.

“I am sorry, it is not convenient to…” one started, but was nudged again by their partner, who gave a quick look and blurted out that it was totally convenient.

It was hard for Song Yanxing to describe the feeling of seeing Tan Qiuyi sitting alone on a hospital bench, hooked up to an IV drip. He turned and took the items Tan Qiuyi’s assistant had prepared. “Thank you. You can go back now.”

He was not just speaking to the assistant, but also to the camera crew that had followed them out.

“Then we will leave him to you, Brother Song.” Xu Leyan, being very perceptive, felt relieved to hand her boss over. She pulled her companion and the cameramen away.

Sensing the movement, the person who had been drowsy from the fever and the IV opened his misty eyes. He looked up and met the man’s dark, unreadable gaze. Tan Qiuyi’s heart gave a little jolt, and his eyes grew inexplicably hot.

Song Yanxing walked over, looking down at the youth whose cheeks were flushed with fever.

“Why are you here?” Tan Qiuyi’s gaze fell on the bag in his hand.

Song Yanxing did not speak. He took out the heavy coat from the bag, leaned over, and draped it over the youth. His voice was calm, showing no emotion. “What do you think?”

Tan Qiuyi felt inexplicably guilty. As the man finished arranging the coat, Tan Qiuyi noticed a small mole flash by on his right index finger. He blinked. “I am sorry. It was so late, and I really did not want to trouble everyone.”

Perhaps the fever had made his thinking slow, because Tan Qiuyi specifically looked up to check Song Yanxing’s expression. Seeing the man’s clear dissatisfaction with that answer, he guessed again and murmured, “Oh, wait. You are not everyone, but I still did not want to trouble you.”

Song Yanxing watched the youth drop his head dejectedly. He reached out to brush the shoulder-length black hair away from his cheek and said seriously, “To me, you are not a trouble. You can depend on me.”

Even though the IV was already working, Tan Qiuyi felt his face burning even hotter.

Song Yanxing sat down beside him. “You can lean on me and rest for a while. I will watch the drip for you.”

Tan Qiuyi’s body was exhausted from the fever. He hesitated for a moment but then followed his instinct, leaning his head against the man’s shoulder. His vision grew blurry. “Thank you.”

Before falling completely into a deep sleep, Tan Qiuyi vaguely heard a refined voice reply, “You are welcome.”

Sensing the youth’s breathing becoming steady, Song Yanxing tilted his head to look at his profile. His heart stirred slightly. The lashes were thick and curled, trembling slightly in sleep. Tan Qiuyi’s delicate, straight nose cast a shadow under the light, and his small, pursed lips were a deep red from the fever. He looked completely different from his usual cold and distant self.

Song Yanxing’s gaze darkened with unreadable intent.