I Won Big with the President Who Looks Like Me - Chapter 5

Did he… misunderstand something?

What’s this talk of heaven or hell? Is this something a mentally sound and healthy adult would say?

As these thoughts raced through his mind, alarm bells clanged in Jiang Ruosui’s head. Every word Yun Yue’an spoke seemed suspicious, further confirming the online speculation.

Yun Yue’an really is mentally ill.

So, how should I interact with someone mentally ill?

Not that he had any experience with this, even before the amnesia.

Forget it. I’ll just go along with what Yun Yue’an is saying. If I upset him and he does something unpredictable, that would be bad.

I’m only here to see him, make sure he’s okay, and ask about what happened that day to recover his memories. Once I’ve done that, I’ll leave.

With this in mind, Jiang Ruosui steadied his nerves. He lowered his head, looking at Yun Yue’an, who was still holding his wrist.

Yun Yue’an was also looking at him, his pitch-black eyes filled with a hint of anticipation. He stared at Jiang Ruosui without blinking, as if gazing at a beloved treasure, his gaze unwavering.

The longer Jiang Ruosui stared, the more Yun Yue’an’s eyes seemed like bottomless black holes, involuntarily sending a shiver down his spine.

He instinctively averted his gaze and murmured, “What heaven or hell? You’re not allowed to go anywhere.”

Yun Yue’an froze, his eyes drooping slightly in disappointment.

Husband… doesn’t want him to die.

He doesn’t want to become a ghost and continue to haunt him.

Husband… still hasn’t forgiven him.

Of course. Someone as sinful as him doesn’t deserve his husband’s forgiveness.

As this thought surfaced, Yun Yue’an slowly lowered his head.

He looked like a child who had misbehaved, his gaze fixed on the hem of Jiang Ruosui’s clothes. His shoulders trembled slightly, as if trapped in some long-standing nightmare. Both his body and mind seemed bound in place, unable to break free from the cage.

Sunlight streamed through the window, shifting across his face and casting faint shadows that obscured his expression.

He… perhaps he was disappointed.

Seeing Yun Yue’an’s every strand of hair radiating dejection, Jiang Ruosui thought to himself, The thought processes of the mentally ill truly can’t be analyzed with normal logic.

Who would want to die together with a ghost, even when they mistakenly believe the person in front of them is one?

As Yun Yue’an lowered his head, his fingertips nervously picked at his nails, digging them into the flesh and leaving them pitted. His round crown of hair, however, remained still and obedient, prompting Jiang Ruosui to instinctively place his palm on it.

“Enough. Stop being so clingy.”

Yun Yue’an immediately looked up, his voice trembling with anxiety. “I’m sorry, husband. I shouldn’t have asked you to do that. I…”

He was about to ask if he was bothering Jiang Ruosui when he heard his voice again, low and soft, above his head:

“Stay in the hospital and focus on your treatment. Let your injuries heal quickly.”

Yun Yue’an froze. The corners of his eyes, which had been drooping with disappointment, lifted slightly in surprise.

He likely hadn’t expected Jiang Ruosui to care about him. He remained frozen for a full five seconds before suddenly tears welled up in his eyes. His voice, thick with emotion, was still teary as he said, “Thank you, husband.”

All his earlier sadness vanished as he beamed. “You’re so good to me, husband.”

Jiang Ruosui: “………”

Watching Yun Yue’an’s Sichuan Opera face-changing performance, he was almost amused:

“Silly.”

Yun Yue’an rubbed the hem of his robe, staring at Jiang Ruosui’s hand for a while before cautiously asking, “Honey, can I hold your hand?”

Jiang Ruosui, who had been looking for an opportunity to ask questions, glanced at him. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Yes.”

Yun Yue’an’s heart leaped with joy. Just as he was about to reach out and touch Jiang Ruosui’s hand, Jiang Ruosui spoke again, unhurriedly:

“But you have to answer a few questions for me.”

Without hesitation, Yun Yue’an nodded. “Honey, ask away.”

Jiang Ruosui raised his index finger. “First question.”

He said, “Why did we get divorced all those years ago?”

Yun Yue’an: “………”

Hearing the question, the eagerness and joy on Yun Yue’an’s face drained away like a receding tide, leaving his expression frozen. Finally, the corners of his lips slowly drooped.

He avoided Jiang Ruosui’s gaze, wanting to lie but fearing that Jiang Ruosui would get angry and refuse to let him hold his hand. He finally whispered, “Because I did something wrong.”

“What is it?” Jiang Ruosui asked.

Cheating? Gambling? Debt?

 Yun Yue’an visibly began to grow anxious and uneasy.

He dared not look at Jiang Ruosui, his whole body shrinking inward as he hugged his knees tightly, like a snail retreating into its shell. His voice trembled as he said,

“It’s something… really, really bad.”

His words became disjointed and illogical: “I just… I missed my husband so much… so, so much. I wanted to see you every moment, and then my husband got angry.”

Jiang Ruosui: “?”

What kind of unreasonable person do I seem? How could I possibly propose divorce just because Yun Yue’an missed me?

He pressed on, “What is this ‘really, really bad thing’ you’re talking about?”

He emphasized, “Be more specific.”

His tone inexplicably turned harsh. Yun Yue’an carefully hugged himself tighter, burying his face in his knees. After a moment, he whispered,

“Husband… my head hurts.”

Jiang Ruosui: “………”

He pressed his temples. “Don’t change the subject.”

“So, you don’t want to hold hands anymore?”

Yun Yue’an stole a glance at Jiang Ruosui’s hand. He looked like he wanted to reach out but was afraid to, so he stayed silent.

Fine, fine.

Jiang Ruosui had no habit of tormenting mentally ill people. He was afraid that if he pressed further, he might worsen Yun Yue’an’s condition, so he decided to drop the matter.

At least now he knew that the responsibility for their divorce lay mostly with Yun Yue’an, and Jiang Ruosui’s moral burden inexplicably lightened.

Good. At least this proves I wasn’t a scumbag who abandoned his lover.

Feeling somewhat cheerful, Jiang Ruosui was willing to indulge Yun Yue’an. Watching him stand there silently like a wronged little wife, he sighed after a moment and extended his hand.

“Come on.”

Yun Yue’an froze for a moment, then immediately straightened up and joyfully seized Jiang Ruosui’s hand.

Jiang Ruosui’s hand was large, warm, and heavy, with distinct knuckles and calluses from writing.

In comparison, Yun Yue’an’s hand was much smaller. Jiang Ruosui knew he could easily cup it in his palm.

It felt inexplicably soft, like the flesh inside a hard clam shell—pale, delicate, and tender.

Jiang Ruosui couldn’t help but freeze.

Unaware of Jiang Ruosui’s distraction, Yun Yue’an held his hand tightly, refusing to let go. He even boldly pressed himself against Jiang Ruosui’s chest, resting his forehead against his chest.

Jiang Ruosui had intended to push him away, but seeing the bloody mark on Yun Yue’an’s forehead, his resolve softened after a moment, and he remained still.

Leaning against Jiang Ruosui, Yun Yue’an cautiously sniffed the air around him, like a puppy recognizing its master:

“Husband.”

He asked, “Will you come back next time?”

Jiang Ruosui replied, “Not necessarily.”

“Oh…”

Yun Yue’an asked anxiously, “Then what if… what if I miss you?”

“Just call me if you miss me,” Jiang Ruosui said, baffled. He thought that even though they were divorced, they could still be friends.

“Ah…” Yun Yue’an asked, “Can you… can you even get calls in the underworld now?”

Jiang Ruosui: “…”

Finding it amusing, he humored him, “Yes, yes, you can.”

“Oh, great!”

Yun Yue’an didn’t harbor the slightest doubt about Jiang Ruosui’s words. He burrowed into Jiang Ruosui’s arms and murmured, “Honey, will you hold me?”

He added, “I can’t sleep if you don’t.”

Jiang Ruosui found him clingy. “Go to sleep. Stop being so whiny.”

Reluctantly, Yun Yue’an closed his eyes.

After Jiang Ruosui’s death, he had only been able to sleep by overdosing on sleeping pills. Yet now, nestled in Jiang Ruosui’s arms, he fell asleep almost instantly.

Seeing him asleep, Jiang Ruosui gently lowered him, adjusted his position, and tucked him in.

He picked up the drawings scattered on the floor, stacked them neatly, and placed them on the table. Glancing at them, Jiang Ruosui noticed that the figures in all the portraits looked identical.

Some were in profile, some full-face, others from behind. But most were drawn from a low-angle perspective, making the figure appear particularly tall and majestic. Combined with the ornate, intricate brushwork, they almost resembled divine beings.

These portraits inexplicably reminded Jiang Ruosui of The King, the painting displayed at the center of the art exhibition that day.

Did Yun Yue’an particularly favor these low-angle perspectives?

Jiang Ruosui remained composed, tidied his things, and left the hospital room.

He hadn’t intended to draw attention, but the moment he stepped out, he collided head-on with a short man.

Jiang Ruosui, at 1.91 meters tall with long legs, barely budged from the impact. The shorter man, however, nearly fell to the ground.

Seeing this, Jiang Ruosui quickly stepped forward and reached out to help him up. “Are you alright?”

The short man had landed on his rear end and was grimacing in pain. But the moment he heard Jiang Ruosui’s voice, he froze as if electrocuted, then snapped his eyes upward as if jolted.

When he saw Jiang Ruosui’s face, unchanged from two years ago, Jian Yan gasped sharply.

He dared not rise, his toes scraping against the floor as he shuffled backward several steps, putting distance between them. Trembling, he asked, “You… Are you human or ghost?!”

Jiang Ruosui’s smile vanished, and he seemed to sink into the shadows, exuding an eerie aura that inexplicably frightened Jian Yan.

“I’m a ghost.”

Jian Yan’s mind instantly shattered.

He nearly collapsed as he scrambled to his feet, desperate to escape, when Jiang Ruosui’s voice called out from behind him:

“Can’t you tell if I’m human or a ghost?”

Jian Yan froze, his little finger trembling at his side. He barely dared to turn around afraid that if he did, he’d see a grinning skull with its bared teeth.

Seeing this, Jiang Ruosui walked over to Jian Yan, subtly gesturing with his peripheral vision for Jian Yan to look at his shadow. He said casually, “There are no ghosts in broad daylight.”

Before him stood not a skeletal face or a hovering spirit, but a living man who moved, smiled, and cast a shadow.

Jian Yan regained some composure, but fear still gripped him.

Clutching his chest, he tried to calm his racing heart. His legs trembled uncontrollably. After a long moment, he swallowed hard and timidly asked, “Jiang… Mr. Jiang?”

The last two words came out in a choked, split voice, betraying his terror.

“You know me?” Jiang Ruosui looked at him. “I’m sorry, I was in a coma for two years. I don’t remember much since waking up.”

“……A vegetable?” Jian Yan was stunned, at a loss for words. “But… didn’t you die?”

Jiang Ruosui: “……That’s a long story.”

Jian Yan struck an attentive pose, ready to listen, but Jiang Ruosui had no intention of explaining. Instead, he turned the conversation back to Jian Yan:

“And who are you?”

“I’m Mr. Yun’s assistant. My name is Jian Yan,” Jian Yan explained. “Mr. Yun suddenly collapsed at the art exhibition. After I brought him here, I had some matters to attend to, so I couldn’t stay with him.”

“I see,” Jiang Ruosui said. He felt inexplicably guilty, but forced himself to remain composed. “Thank you for your trouble.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Jian Yan said. “Mr. Yun pays me very well, and given his condition… I should be doing this anyway.”

Jiang Ruosui, unfamiliar with him, simply grunted and didn’t press further. “Well, if there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving now.”

With that, he turned to leave, but Jian Yan, seeing this, grew anxious.

Without even thinking, Jian Yan blurted out and hastily grabbed Jiang Ruosui’s arm:

“Mr. Jiang!”

Jiang Ruosui: “……”

He turned around, looking at Jian Yan with a puzzled expression: “Is there something else?”

“M-Mr. Jiang,” Jian Yan stammered, “I know this is a bit much to ask, especially since you’re divorced, but…”

Jian Yan’s eyelids fluttered as he hesitated. Jiang Ruosui, who had little patience left, cut him off:

“What exactly are you trying to say?”

“I just… I just wanted to say, Mr. Jiang, if you were to… pfft… if it were possible, could you please visit Mr. Yun more often?”

Jian Yan lowered his head:

“Mr. Yun… he can’t do without you.”

Jiang Ruosui found Jian Yan’s words somewhat exaggerated:

“In this world, no one is indispensable. The Earth keeps spinning regardless of who’s missing.”

“That’s true for normal people,” Jian Yan replied.

“But you know, Mr. Jiang… Mr. Yun isn’t like normal people.”

“So, just because he’s mentally ill, I’m supposed to compromise?” Jiang Ruosui asked. “I’m not a doctor.”

Jian Yan met his gaze for several seconds. Seeing no sign of compromise in Jiang Ruosui’s eyes, his heart pounded like a drum.

After a long pause, he realized he had licked his dry, cracked lips. His voice was hoarse: “What if I told you… Mr. Yun attempted suicide multiple times during the two years you were in a coma?”

Jiang Ruosui: “………”

He remained silent for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. “So… are you trying to emotionally blackmail me?”

“Are you saying Yun Yue’an’s mental illness is my fault?”

Jian Yan quickly said, “No…”

“Then I have no obligation to correct a mentally ill person’s views on life and death, especially since we’re divorced,” Jiang Ruosui said calmly. The warm sunlight around them somehow made his words chilling.

“I’m busy. I’ll take my leave now, Mr. Jian.”

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