TBW - 27

Chapter 27: Black Thorn D200

Half an hour earlier, Shi Ying had exited the highway toll station. The rain in Banshan had stopped. Passing by a fruit and vegetable chain store, he sent Cheng Simin a message asking if she had any fruits she wanted to eat that evening.

Other customers were going about their daily lives, lingering in the discount section. Cheng Simin hadn’t replied, so Shi Ying pushed a shopping cart around, choosing only based on appearance without considering cost-effectiveness, picking only the most expensive items: “First Love Fragrance,” “Night Owl Black Skin,” and even the rare Black Thorn D200, of which the store sold only a few each week.

After checking out, he didn’t take the receipt. Amid the shopkeeper’s beaming smile, Shi Ying carried the fruits back to his car and returned to Huangheyuan.

At the entrance of the residential complex, he made his first call of the day to Cheng Simin. Before calling, he had hesitated—what if it seemed too forward to call after she hadn’t replied to his message? But as he took the elevator and Cheng Simin still didn’t answer, he stepped out of the hallway and heard her dog barking incessantly inside. Shi Ying couldn’t wait any longer and made a second call, then a third.

The calls went unanswered, and Cheng Simin’s door remained firmly locked. Shi Ying’s heart raced, fearing something might have happened to her. In a panic, he called a locksmith.

Shi Ying wasn’t opening his own door. In this district, locksmiths not only needed to report to the public security system but also required property management personnel to accompany them. As chaos brewed outside the door, Cheng Simin, dressed lightly and looking utterly exhausted, unlocked the door.

She was wearing a snug sports bra, no shoes, her hair messy and draped over her shoulders.

With just one glance, Shi Ying didn’t pause to be surprised. He squeezed through the door, pulling Cheng Simin behind him.

Behind the door, Cheng Simin hung limply in his arms, sliding down like a noodle, clearly in no state to receive visitors.

Beside the door, Shi Ying felt anxious but kept his expression calm, trying to come up with a convincing reason to quickly send the two strangers away.

“Sorry, Master Locksmith, keep the money and head back. My friend seems unwell—I’ll check her temperature to see if we need to go to the hospital.”

Shi Ying moved too quickly. Earlier, Cheng Simin had flashed past, and now the on-duty security guard could only see the tenant’s arm resting on Shi Ying’s waist. Suspicious, the guard tried to push the door open further, saying helpfully, “Didn’t you say 1203 was just your neighbor? How did she become a friend now? What’s wrong with her? Let me see—do you need help?”

The door wouldn’t budge because Shi Ying had wedged his foot behind it. Back and forth, his expression hardened. When he spoke again, his tone was cold and impatient: “What’s there to see? If you’re worried, call the police. Don’t we have ID photos on file? I live here—do you think I’ll run off?”

In his arms, Cheng Simin shivered, her arm slipping into the back of Shi Ying’s suit jacket, searching for warmth wherever she could find it.

The outline of an arm rose along Shi Ying’s back, creating an ambiguously intimate scene. Fortunately, the locksmith was kind-hearted and honest, averting his eyes and advising the young security guard, “Ah, it’s probably lovers’ quarrel. Let’s go, let’s not meddle.”

The security guard fiddled with the flashlight hanging from his belt, snorting disdainfully under his breath, muttering, “What kind of people are these…”

Shi Ying ignored him, kicking the door shut and dragging Cheng Simin to the nearest sofa to lie her down.

He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead—it was scorching hot.

Shi Ying immediately patted her face and called her softly: “Cheng Simin, you have a fever. Let me get you dressed, and we’ll go to the hospital.”

“No hospital,” Cheng Simin’s right arm slipped out of Shi Ying’s jacket, flailing in the air like a snake dancing to a flute: “I haven’t paid my medical insurance. I can’t afford it!”

Even in her delirium, she was still thinking about saving money. It seemed her illness wasn’t that serious.

Partly relieved but still concerned, Shi Ying held both her wrists against his chest to prevent her from injuring herself. “We won’t use your money—we’ll use mine, okay? Listen, IVs will help you recover faster.”

“Tch, who are you?” Cheng Simin closed her eyes, ignoring him, breaking free from his grip and clutching the decorative cushion on the sofa, mumbling, “Yours is yours, mine is mine. Why should I use yours? I’m the boss here. If I say no hospital, it’s no hospital.”

“I say east, you can’t say west. Beibei can’t either!”

Cheng Simin, bolstered by her illness, rambled nonsensically at her imaginary opponent.

Shi Ying cradled her, pulled her, and lifted her, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Finally giving up on reasoning with her, he turned to the bedroom wardrobe to find clothes.

In the wardrobe, he pushed aside inconvenient items like tank tops, shorts, and dresses. His goal was comfortable T-shirts and loose sweatpants.

On the sofa, deprived of her only source of coolness, Cheng Simin curled up pitifully on the cushion like a boiled shrimp. Her fingers rubbed Beibei’s ears—the texture was smooth, the fine fur dense, the cartilage soft and bouncy. Cheng Simin’s mind struggled but couldn’t figure out what part of the sofa she was touching.

Shi Ying found clothes for her in the bedroom and brought a summer blanket to cover her, blocking key areas and pulling her hand away from Beibei’s ears.

Though Shi Ying had never dressed anyone else before, he had seen others do it enough to know the basics.

Kneeling on the floor, he struggled for a long while, finding the task difficult because Cheng Simin simply wouldn’t cooperate. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t straighten her legs.

Adding to the chaos, Beibei, who had eagerly welcomed Shi Ying inside hoping for snacks, thought they were playing a game and joined in the commotion.

Every time Shi Ying tried to put pants on Cheng Simin, Beibei would snatch her socks and shirt from his hands or the sofa.

After battling with one human and one dog for nearly ten minutes, Shi Ying finally managed to get both of Cheng Simin’s feet into the pant legs. Just as he prepared to pull the waistband up to her hips, she suddenly twisted uncomfortably and kicked him squarely in the chest.

Though Cheng Simin’s frame was small and her weight mostly came from her soft flesh rather than bone, her legs weren’t the pencil-thin type admired by traditional beauty standards. Their appeal lay in their straightness.

Yet this pair of short, equally proportioned thighs delivered a ruthless blow.

Knocked onto the living room floor, Shi Ying’s mind went blank. His arms braced against the tiles, his chest completely numb, his heart skipping a beat. His expression was a masterpiece of shock, like an oil painting palette splashed with colors.

After recovering for a dozen seconds, he steadied his breathing and shouted toward the sofa: “Damn it.”

Did the culprit care? No. Taking advantage of his fall, she wriggled the pants off her feet again.

Was he, Shi Ying, some lowly person destined to waste effort and endure kicks? Who could tolerate this?

Ultimately, it was Beibei who showed mercy. Walking over, the dog nudged its head under Shi Ying’s armpit, helping him stand. Fuming and steaming, Shi Ying walked over to Cheng Simin and scolded her harshly: “Fine, no hospital, huh? Then don’t wear clothes! Lie here naked and burn! No one will care when you’re cooked, got it?”

“Go ahead! Who can outdo you in drama?”

Finally, feeling utterly wronged, he leaned his creamy face close and said, “Why didn’t you kick me to death?”

After his outburst, he glanced at Cheng Simin again—no reaction, she had fallen asleep. Shi Ying finally calmed his expression and bent down to pick up her clothes.

The wet clothes went into the bathroom sink, clean ones back into the wardrobe. As for the socks, he picked them up and examined them under the light—they were ruined. Beibei had bitten off the heels, leaving neat cuts as if done with scissors.

Grabbing the Hello Kitty keychain hanging on Cheng Simin’s front door, he stopped by the sofa before leaving, tucking one of her exposed legs back under the blanket. To avoid waking her, he whispered to Beibei, “Keep an eye on her. I’m going downstairs to buy fever medicine. I’ll feed you when I come back.”

Beibei had only eaten once today and was starving. Hearing “feed,” it excitedly spun in place.

As soon as Shi Ying closed the door, the dog obediently listened. Though it didn’t understand why it had to watch, it perked its ears to hear Shi Ying enter the elevator, then ran to Cheng Simin, resting its head on the sofa to keep an eye on her.

Less than twenty minutes later, Shi Ying returned with a bag of cold medicine from the pharmacy. He administered the fever reducer to Cheng Simin, placed dog food in a bowl for Beibei, and surveyed Cheng Simin’s messy home. Finally, he removed his peacock-like suit.

Since Cheng Simin was sleeping soundly and couldn’t appreciate his suave appearance in a suit, he changed into more comfortable clothes and began cleaning her apartment.

He washed and hung the wet clothes, neatly folded the disarrayed items in the wardrobe, and scrubbed the muddy footprints off the floor.

After finishing, Shi Ying opened the refrigerator to cook dumplings for himself. Once he’d eaten, he washed the dishes soaking in the sink and cleaned the kitchen. Still not satisfied, he prepared some easily digestible lean meat porridge for Cheng Simin.

He wasn’t here to enjoy a meal after paying for it—he worked harder than any hired housekeeper. Finally, when he had a moment to sit by Cheng Simin and check on her, he was relieved to find her face no longer burning after taking the medicine.

Seeing Cheng Simin using her elbow to block the light, Shi Ying turned off the glaring ceiling lamp and sat an arm’s length away, watching her sleep by the moonlight streaming through the window.

It was nearing midnight. Beibei had already fallen asleep on its little bed, gnawing on the duck jerky Shi Ying had rewarded it with.

Cheng Simin snored softly, while Beibei’s snores were louder. Their rhythmic breathing intertwined, adding a fantastical touch to the otherwise quiet, moonlit night.

By all accounts, Shi Ying shouldn’t have stayed any longer. Cheng Simin was a healthy adult woman; it was just a common cold. After taking medicine and resting, she’d likely recover significantly. He wasn’t that idle—he had work tomorrow and should leave.

Logically, he knew this was true, yet he hesitated to go.

The moonlight crept like vines, climbing over the ordinary clothes drying on the balcony and painting intricate patterns across Cheng Simin’s profile—her delicate eye sockets, dense lashes, and slightly upturned chin.

Ten years had passed, and Cheng Simin’s features had matured slightly, with a few sunspots he hadn’t seen before. Yet at a glance, he could still see the image of her as a naive teenage girl.

If he looked closer, beneath her deliberately bright exterior, he could even glimpse the elementary school girl who once cried in front of him.

He gazed at her for a long time. Before leaving, Shi Ying took the mercury thermometer from the plastic bag, disinfected it with an alcohol wipe, bent down, and gently lifted the blanket beneath Cheng Simin’s neck. He told himself: take her temperature one last time. That way, he wouldn’t worry about her tonight and could sleep soundly.

Shi Ying prided himself on his strong moral compass—he would never take advantage of someone in need. As he leaned down, he carefully controlled his movements, lowering the blanket by ten centimeters to expose only one shoulder. He successfully placed the prepared thermometer under her arm and covered her exposed shoulder again.

Watching the clock, ten minutes later, Shi Ying lowered his eyelids and approached Cheng Simin once more, bending down to retrieve the thermometer. The steps were the same as before, but this time, just as his middle finger touched the thermometer, Cheng Simin’s right hand suddenly clasped it along with his index finger.

Shi Ying’s gaze shifted upward. Cheng Simin’s eyes were half-closed, her face flushed pink, her lips red, and her glassy eyes—those eyes that shimmered like琉璃 (colored crystal)—were fixed on him. “You’re awake? Drink…” Shi Ying’s words trailed off as Cheng Simin pulled his palm toward her cheek.

Her skin was warm, soft, and delicate, like a small, fragile animal that evoked a sense of tenderness.

In that moment, the image of Cheng Simin from his memories completely dissolved. The Cheng Simin before him now exuded an irresistible, almost coquettish charm.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his gaze flickered. For a moment, he forgot what he had intended to say. His voice came out hoarse as he called her name: “Cheng Simin?”

Cheng Simin spoke too, but her throat was swollen, and only her lips moved. Her voice was so faint it was nearly inaudible. Seeing this, Shi Ying immediately leaned closer, lowering his waist even further to bring his ear near her chin.

Cheng Simin whispered into his ear. Shi Ying’s already electrified heart began to race uncontrollably, pounding wildly as if it had no regard for restraint. His spine collapsed, but thanks to his youthful vigor, he didn’t feel the least bit tired. Instead, he adopted an indulgent, tender posture, engaging in hushed, intimate conversation with her.

“I know.”

“Really, I know.”

“It’s nothing.”

“When have I ever looked down on you, hmm?”

“It’s absolutely impossible.”

“You think about it carefully—I would never.”

“Never.”

Perhaps his rebuttals were convincing enough. The next second, Cheng Simin lifted her head slightly and affectionately pressed her cheek against the bridge of Shi Ying’s nose, rubbing it back and forth like an electric lint roller.

With one hand cradling her face and the other supporting her neck, Shi Ying made no bold moves. He simply maintained that position, anxiously waiting for her to press her lips against his.

The wait lasted about ten seconds—quickly enough. A unique sensation brushed against his lips, and at the same time, he tasted a bitter medicinal tang on his tongue: it was the oral solution he had poured into her mouth earlier.

Shi Ying had taken this medicine countless times before, but never had his taste buds been so sensitive. He could even detect a faint almond-like bitterness with a lingering sweetness.

This bittersweet sensation was intoxicating. It dawned on him that his favorite dessert should be caramel-flavored soft pudding. Though their relationship wasn’t one where they could kiss, he parted his lips, wanting to savor more.

Their teeth lightly clicked. Just as he prepared to deepen this incredibly tender kiss, Cheng Simin spoke again. This time, she wasn’t whispering into his ear—she was sobbing loudly, tears streaming down her cheeks like beans. Clutching Shi Ying’s neck tightly, she cried out, “Beibei, my mom doesn’t want me anymore! I don’t have a mom! I only have you left!”

“My mom is gone too, but it’s okay—don’t be sad! I’ll be your new mom.”

“Beibei, Mommy will always love you!”