How could a Puppy-like Boy Ever Have Any Bad Intentions? - Chapter 9

The atmosphere inside the room was thick with silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic drumming of rain and the sudden cracks of thunder against the window.

The distance between the two of them had become dangerously small.

Su Lixu saw Fu Xingran pinning him into the chair, dark eyes fixed on him, seemingly with no intention of answering. “We’ll discuss the skipping class another time. Get some rest; I’m going to sleep on the sofa.”

He made a move to stand up.

However, Fu Xingran remained in that same posture, unmoving, clearly refusing to let him go.

“Do you want to answer?” Su Lixu asked.

“I’m not telling you,” Fu Xingran let go and stood up abruptly.

Su Lixu let out a short laugh. He was truly at a loss; he simply closed his laptop and walked out of the room. He thought to himself that Fu Xingran certainly knew how to handle him—the boy knew that acting spoiled made his heart soften. But he also needed to make it clear to Fu Xingran that this affection wasn’t a license for reckless indulgence. While he could be easygoing about many things, there were boundaries that had to be respected.

Fu Xingran didn’t move. He watched Su Lixu leave the room, his gaze following the man’s departure. The look of vulnerability on his face gradually vanished, replaced by a flicker of annoyance.

I shouldn’t have rushed it. I shouldn’t have let jealousy drive me to snatch his phone. It was indeed a bit improper. Su Lixu didn’t like rude people, and he had just been rude. But at least that person was just a colleague. Fortunately.

He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window. Outside, the rain was relentless, sliding down the glass. The reflection in the window showed a youth with lowered brows—silent, still, appearing as docile and pitiful as a stray, the kind of look that made it impossible for anyone to speak a harsh word to him.

A moment later, however, Fu Xingran’s features relaxed. There wasn’t a trace of that quiet obedience left in his eyes; instead, they swirled with laughter and obsession. He smiled to himself.

“My expression must not have been quite right just now; that’s why Brother didn’t feel sorry for me. I’ll do better next time. Brother definitely won’t have the heart to scold me.”

Then, as if struck by a thought, Fu Xingran’s smile grew even more radiant, yet he looked like a wicked demon.

Between the late autumn season and the rain, the temperature had dropped significantly.

Su Lixu had turned on the heater in the bedroom but forgot the central air in the living room. Sleeping on the sofa in the middle of the night, he began to feel a chill. In his half-asleep state, he felt a source of heat press in against him. Because his hands and feet were cold, he instinctively huddled closer to the warmth. He didn’t even realize there was now another person on the sofa, pulling him into a warm embrace.

He was entirely unaware that alongside the softness and warmth, danger was closing in.

The living room lights were off. Only the faint light from outside filtered in, casting the shadows of the balcony’s security mesh onto the floor. On the ground, the shadow of two people embracing merged together. Whispered murmurs overlapped with shifting shadows in an ambiguous dance.

“…Brother.”

“Brother, I’m scared.”

“Brother, it’s thundering. I’m afraid to sleep alone…”

“…Can I hold you while we sleep?”

Su Lixu was drifting in and out of sleep when he suddenly heard a voice buzzing in his ear. Hot breath tickled his ear canal, making it itchy and uncomfortable. He let out a soft groan, knitting his brows and turning his face away.

“Brother, you can hear me talking, can’t you?”

“…Xingran?”

Su Lixu gradually regained consciousness. He heard Fu Xingran’s calling, but his brain wasn’t fully awake yet; he had even momentarily forgotten why he was on the sofa.

Right then, he felt a sharp tug at the left side of his chest.

It was as if a specific nerve had been touched; his mind snapped awake instantly. His reflex was to sit up, but then he discovered his waist was being held tightly by Fu Xingran from behind. He was lying entirely within Fu Xingran’s arms.

The sofa wasn’t small, but with two grown men lying there, it felt exceptionally cramped. This guy actually came out to the sofa?

“Fu Xingran,” Su Lixu said, reaching up to press down on Fu Xingran’s hand, which was resting over his heart. “What are you doing?”

Hearing Su Lixu’s sleepy, slightly hoarse, and languid voice—and being at such an intimate distance on the sofa—Fu Xingran felt the voice act like a catalyst. His greedy desires swelled even further, nearly overflowing.

He buried his face in Su Lixu’s neck and closed his eyes. He didn’t respond; he just held the man without letting go, softly calling “Brother.” He threw himself into the performance, forcing a crying tremor into his voice, acting as if he were terrified to the core.

Su Lixu noticed that Fu Xingran wasn’t answering him, but was simply crying and calling his name out of fear while holding him tightly. His brow furrowed. Is he sleepwalking?

“Xingran?” he called out tentatively.

He received no verbal reply, only a continued stimulation of his nerves. Su Lixu’s lower back tightened, and he immediately gripped Fu Xingran’s hand. The environment was too quiet; he could hear his own breathing becoming erratic. He could feel Fu Xingran’s intentions, but he wasn’t sure if the boy was sleepwalking or acting deliberately.

To be safe, he didn’t move. He simply restrained Fu Xingran’s hand without trying to break away.

“…So much blood. Mom is bleeding so much. I’m scared to come out… It’s thundering. What should I do? It’s so scary…”

At that moment, a brilliant flash of lightning streaked past the window, followed by a deafening crash of thunder. The Fu Xingran behind him seemed to be startled into tears, his body trembling with fear as he pulled Su Lixu even tighter.

The intermittent murmurs sounded exactly like the unconscious sleep-talk of someone in a dream state. This convinced Su Lixu that the boy was indeed sleepwalking. Now, he really couldn’t do anything; the only option was to stay still.

But his stillness didn’t mean Fu Xingran was finished. In the next second, Fu Xingran hooked his arm around Su Lixu’s waist and flipped him over.

Now they were face-to-face on the sofa, the distance that had existed while they were back-to-back completely vanished.

Su Lixu could see Fu Xingran’s face clearly. The boy’s eyes were indeed tightly shut as he cried, looking incredibly pitiful. However… his hands told a completely different story from his face. They were being quite wicked.

Suddenly, Fu Xingran lowered his head.

Su Lixu’s pupils constricted in disbelief. His hands gripped the edge of the sofa so hard they trembled, his knuckles turning white.

Through his clothes, this guy bit him.

“Fu Xingran!”

The scolding, filled with shame and irritation, wasn’t loud. It was clear he was suppressing his anger. In his tone, one could definitely tell he was mad. But to a certain someone’s ears, that scold could be misinterpreted in a thousand different ways.

Fu Xingran eased the pressure slightly, but he didn’t let go entirely. He remained in that position, unmoving.

About a minute passed this way.

The culprit had fallen asleep while still biting him.

Su Lixu took a deep breath. “…” He was truly going to go crazy.

The city, washed clean by the rain, looked brand new, though the temperature had dropped several more degrees.

The heavy curtains by the floor-to-ceiling window had been pulled back, leaving only a layer of pale yellow sheer veil. The morning light filtered into the room, falling upon the youth still sleeping on the sofa.

Fu Xingran slowly opened his eyes. When he realized a throw pillow had been stuffed into his arms, his mind went blank for a few seconds.

“Brother?”

His voice echoed through the large living room, but there was no answer.

Fu Xingran sat up abruptly. The lingering sleepiness in his eyes was instantly swallowed by a wave of anxiety. He looked around the living room frantically, as if searching for something.

Just then, a “beep” sounded. The yellow sheer curtains began to slide open automatically, letting the full daylight pour into the room. A soft, soothing piece of instrumental music began to play through the living room speakers. In the kitchen, the smart warmer automatically switched to heating mode; before long, the rich aroma of a latte filled the air.

“Wake-up mode activated. You have one voice message; playing now.” The screen on the wall lit up, it was the artificial voice of the smart home system. “Xingran, good morning. Something came up at the school and I had to go in early to handle it. There is a latte and toast in the warmer in the kitchen; they will heat up automatically once you are awake. From Su Lixu.”

Despite the cold, emotionless mechanical voice, Su Lixu’s gentleness and attention to detail still shone through.

Fu Xingran stood in the living room, dazed for a few seconds. Finally, like a child who had just been given a piece of candy, he broke into a satisfied smile.

So, Su Lixu didn’t mean to throw him away. That was wonderful.

He licked his lips, as if savoring a lingering taste.

“Always worried about being abandoned? Are you still looking over that old case file for your younger brother?”

During the lunch break, Su Lixu was in the counseling room reviewing old cases. Hearing the person sitting opposite him speak, his brow knit slightly. He looked up at the man in the black shirt.

He Shi leaned back in his chair, the gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose lending him an air of scholarly refinement mixed with academic rigor.

“It’s not that,” Su Lixu whispered, lowering his eyes to mask his emotions as he closed the file on Fu Xingran. “It’s a patient I had back when I was still at the mental hospital.”

“Another case of Borderline Personality Disorder with distinct symptoms?”

“Yes.” Su Lixu picked up his coffee and took a sip, looking over at He Shi. “When I resigned and left the hospital four years ago, he misunderstood. He thought I refused to treat him because I couldn’t accept who he was. We crossed paths recently by chance, and his behavior has left me… bewildered.”

“In what way?”

“He’s changed so much I almost didn’t recognize him. Yet, I run into him constantly at school. Every time he sees me, he greets me with such enthusiasm—he seems like a bright, sunny young man. It was only later that he took the initiative to tell me who he was. Since I recognized him, he’s shown extreme dependence and anxiety. There have been several times when, in a stable mood, he asked me why I left him, only to return to a ‘normal’ emotional state the very next second. The more enthusiastic he is, the more unsettled I feel.”

He Shi, who had been sitting quite casually, straightened up. His expression turned serious. “Is he a student at our university?”

Su Lixu thought to himself, He’s actually your student, but out of professional ethics, he couldn’t reveal the identity, even if the person was a former patient. “Yes.”

“Why did he misunderstand and think you refused to treat him?” He Shi caught the key phrase.

“Mainly because of his father.”

“And did his father ever clear things up?”

“No.”

He Shi’s expression darkened. He looked at Su Lixu intently. “Lixu, if that’s the case, you’re in a dangerous position. Four years have passed. You have no idea if this child received further treatment or to what extent he has recovered.”

“Based on what you’ve told me, the dependence and anxiety he’s showing now are direct triggers from your past ‘rejection.’ He is desperate for an answer from you. If he doesn’t get the answer he wants, he will find a way to take it from you. That makes you a target.”

Su Lixu knew this well, yet he remained puzzled. “I’m well aware that BPD is incredibly difficult to overcome or cure, but he seems to manage his emotions so well. I assumed he had been consistently undergoing Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT).”

“You assumed?”

Su Lixu shook his head. “In reality, he hasn’t.”

“What was his attitude toward you back at the hospital? How does it differ from now?”

Su Lixu thought for a few seconds. “Because there are no longer any clinical boundaries… he’s become much more clingy.”

Fu Xingran’s sense of dependence hadn’t diminished over the last four years; instead, he treated Su Lixu with the same alternating heat and insecurity as before, now laced with a powerful sense of possessiveness. It was as if his father’s words four years ago hadn’t triggered him at all—but logically, that was impossible.

The situation was becoming thorny. His current role was ‘teacher’ or perhaps a ‘big brother’ figure, rather than ‘doctor.’ Without the rules of therapy, Fu Xingran was able to get much closer, and Su Lixu could clearly feel that the boy was approaching him with a specific purpose. This sense of purpose felt subtle and unsettling. Could he be planning revenge?

“Lixu, for those with Borderline Personality Disorder, the world is often upside down. It is difficult to talk logic or right-and-wrong with them because their very sense of self is constantly wavering. That instability makes their interpersonal relationships extremely volatile. Regardless of what happened four years ago—even if it wasn’t your fault—the problem is that he believes it was. Whatever he plans to do will be driven by that belief.”

He Shi leaned forward, clasping his hands on the desk. “I know you’re soft-hearted, but you cannot treat him like Liyang. Lixu, your doctor-patient relationship ended four years ago. You’ve done your part. You don’t need to shoulder a responsibility that isn’t yours.”

As if his hidden wound had been touched, Su Lixu swiveled his chair toward the window, leaning back in silence. The room fell quiet. The warm autumn light spilled through the glass, outlining the man in the snow-white sweater. His lips were pressed thin in a stubborn line, as if he were at war with himself.

He Shi noticed the tension in Su Lixu’s expression and realized he might have overstepped. A flicker of regret crossed his eyes. “Are you angry?”

The name ‘Su Liyang’ was like a thorn in Su Lixu’s heart—impossible to remove, and every time it was touched, it only drove deeper.

“No. You’re right,” Su Lixu said, staring at the towering tree outside the window. “I shouldn’t believe I can save every BPD patient just because I lost Liyang. Psychology doesn’t offer that kind of certainty, and neither can I.”

Losing Su Liyang was the greatest regret of his life. He simply didn’t want to see another patient lost in an emotional maze, eventually losing themselves and choosing to abandon the world.

“So, what do you plan to do?”

“I’m not his attending physician. I have no right to diagnose or medicate him. But if he wants to talk, I’ll listen as a friend. If he harbors resentment toward me, I’d rather he says it out loud than keeps it bottled up.”

He Shi stared at him until Su Lixu noticed. “…What is it?”

He Shi laughed helplessly. “You… you’re so rational when you’re being professional, but when you’re being soft-hearted, you’re a complete mess.”

“Is that a compliment or a criticism?”

“It’s a compliment,” He Shi laughed, raising an eyebrow. “I’m quite honored to work with such a gentle Teacher Su.”

Su Lixu wondered, Am I gentle? I don’t think I am.

“Just… protect yourself.”

Su Lixu met He Shi’s deep, serious gaze. He began to consider the possibility that he needed to be on guard against Fu Xingran. Thinking of the night before, he felt a reflexive tingle in the left side of his chest.

“I know.”

He Shi adjusted his glasses, his peripheral vision catching the strange flicker on Su Lixu’s face. “If anything happens, tell me. Don’t face it alone. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

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