The Sickly Beauty is Too Good at Seducing - Chapter 22

Shen Congbai slapped his hand away, a trace of suppressed loathing appearing on his face. “Don’t touch me.”

He had not forgotten that those flowers were sent by Jiang Yan. Shen Que was indeed detestable, but he merely wanted to use him to achieve a goal. Jiang Yan was different; Shen Congbai clearly understood Jiang Yan’s malice toward him. The tulips were likely never meant to kill him, but simply to toy with him to mock his fragile, broken body with contempt, as if he were a dog.

Shen Congbai suddenly felt incredibly exhausted. He hung his head, lacking even the strength to breathe. He whispered, “As you wished, a rift has finally formed between Shen Que and me. What’s your next step?”

Jiang Yan’s expression cooled. Hearing this, a forced smile touched the corners of his mouth. “What is the Young Master saying? I don’t understand.”

Shen Congbai’s face took on an abnormal, slight purplish tint, but it was completely hidden by the hair falling over the side of his face. His voice grew weaker as he spoke to himself: “It’s just a pity that I no longer have any value worth your scheming.”

Shen Congbai planned to have a complete showdown with the Shen family once he returned. He could not afford the exorbitant medical expenses, and this body would likely soon be in ruins, unable to hold out for long. But that was fine, too; Shen Congbai closed his eyes in a sense of relief. At least it was a bit better than his previous life; he wouldn’t have to struggle in agony on a hospital bed for so many years.

His mind grew increasingly hazy. The air entering his lungs became less and less. His body, lacking the strength to support itself, slumped forward limply. Jiang Yan caught him by the back, and looking closely, he realized Shen Congbai’s face had turned purple and his breathing was faint.

It was his first time seeing Shen Congbai so devoid of life. The boy was huddled in his arms, as thin and fragile as a piece of paper that would tear at a touch; he barely seemed to fill half the space. The sudden crisis of potentially losing Shen Congbai made even the hand Jiang Yan used to call for an ambulance tremble uncontrollably.

By the time Shen Congbai was pushed into the ICU, Jiang Yan’s limbs were still numb. He sat paralyzed on the iron chair outside for a long time before his mind finally regained some calm.

People came and went in the hospital. He watched the person lying flat inside through a layer of transparent glass in silence.

Shen Congbai was too thin. Three years abroad was said to be for recovery, but his physical condition had only worsened. Now, lying on the snow-white hospital bed, his weight barely made a shallow dent in the mattress. His eyelashes flickered uneasily, as if he might be blown away by the wind in the next second.

Jiang Yan’s throat felt constricted. He slowly traced the lines of Shen Congbai’s face through the glass.

This was already the best hospital in Port A, yet it could only provide Shen Congbai with such a small ward and lacked the best medicine. Even the sheets looked as though they had been used countless times, stained with blood or some other grime.

Shen Congbai was like an angel who had fallen to earth to suffer; from the moment he stepped into Port A, he was so clean and noble that he was utterly out of place.

Port A could not sustain tulips, and it could not properly care for this high-born, precious Young Master.

It was all his fault. It was because he wasn’t strong enough; the things he held in his hands couldn’t provide for Shen Congbai, which was why Shen Congbai kept running into the arms of others.

Shen Congbai was unconscious for three days, finally waking just as the sun was setting on the evening of the third day.

He had been moved to a somewhat more spacious room. The sunset dyed the entire ward a blood-red color. Shen Congbai squinted his eyes; his body was so weak he didn’t even have the strength to make a sound. Looking at the color of the room, he thought he had already gone to the underworld.

It wasn’t until he felt a faint sensation in his palm that he turned his head with difficulty. Jiang Yan was slumped by his bedside, thick dark circles under his eyes, looking exceptionally haggard.

Sensing Shen Congbai’s gaze, Jiang Yan sat up abruptly, his eyes mapped with bloodshot veins. He supported Shen Congbai’s back to help him into a comfortable sitting position and asked, “Are you still feeling unwell?”

Shen Congbai looked at him quietly, his expression so cold it was heart-wrenching. Even his pupils were a terrifying, dull gray. “Why am I not dead yet?”

Jiang Yan’s heart ached, and the expression on his face froze instantly. Before he could think of an excuse, Shen Congbai had already closed his eyes in exhaustion, pulling up the quilt to cover his eyes in a clear refusal to communicate.

Jiang Yan’s fingertips curled and uncurled. His hand hovered helplessly over the quilt, but he simply didn’t dare to lift the barrier that separated them.

Having suffered a major illness, Shen Congbai felt as if he had returned to those years abroad in his previous life. He felt weary of everything; his heart was empty, and voices were constantly echoing in his mind.

One moment they mocked him for deserving to be used and abandoned; the next, they ridiculed him for being incompetent and selfish. When he shook his head in denial, countless shards of memory stabbed at him, hurting so much he wanted to end it all.

Shen Congbai wept silently, constantly doubting himself in his heart. He was likely truly wretched; after two lives, he not only failed to escape the predicament of his past life but also made the people around him hate him more and more.

The more he thought, the more he broke down. He only wanted to hide under the quilt, wanting to see no one not Shen Que, not Jiang Yan, not even himself.

In the next instant, an arm reached under a corner of the quilt. Shen Congbai was scooped out, quilt and all, by Jiang Yan.

Seeing Jiang Yan’s face, a flood of emotions washed over Shen Congbai guilt, loathing, anger, and disappointment. These feelings mixed together, making him so nauseous he felt like gagging.

He hated Jiang Yan for what he had done, yet at the same time, he clearly understood the source of Jiang Yan’s hatred for him. Shen Congbai wanted so desperately to escape the debt he owed Jiang Yan; the weight of that guilt was suffocating him.

He struggled with all his might to leave Jiang Yan’s embrace, wanting to rid himself of everything he owed the man, but he was locked firmly in his arms. In the end, both of them were left exhausted.

Jiang Yan slowly stroked Shen Congbai’s back as if soothing a small animal. “The doctor said you can’t cry so hard anymore, or it will trigger your asthma again.”

Shen Congbai, utterly drained, said, “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“No…” Jiang Yan pulled him closer. “No, I never thought about making the Young Master sad. You can’t vent your resentment toward Shen Que onto me.”

He lowered his head and rubbed against Shen Congbai’s hair, his eyes gradually reddening. “How can the Young Master think of me like that? I was clearly so worried about you.”

Shen Congbai didn’t want to entangle with him further, his eyes devoid of any spark. “If you want to vent your anger next time, you don’t need to send flowers or make me angry. Just tell me directly. My health is poor; you don’t need to put in much effort. I’ll die on my own.”

Jiang Yan suddenly panicked, his fingertips sinking deep into the quilt. “I never thought of killing the Young Master. I just… I just…”

He was simply unwilling to accept it. Why should Shen Que have everything while he could only watch their intimacy from afar? He had no way to make Shen Congbai like him, and he was narrow-minded, unable to bear the thought of Shen Congbai being with someone else. Thus, he could only expose those men’s misdeeds to show Shen Congbai that he was the one who loved him most.

But he had never imagined Shen Congbai’s health would be this poor. He thought that, just like before, he could simply hold him and coax him, and it would pass.

Hearing his words, Shen Congbai suddenly spoke: “Just what? Or are you going to say you didn’t know I had asthma, and that you actually sent the flowers to reconcile with me? That you didn’t know I would be so agitated after seeing through Shen Que, but you chose to show me the truth anyway to keep me from being deceived!”

Tears brimmed in his eyes as he looked at Jiang Yan unblinkingly, as if seeking help. “You only have to say ‘yes.’ Just lie to me. That way… I won’t be so sad.”

Jiang Yan’s Adam’s apple rolled dryly twice. His hand slowly covered Shen Congbai’s eyes.

He said, “Yes.”