The baby slapped me, and I said, "Sit on my lap and slap me."

Wen Yu's eyes immediately cleared, his gaze darkening, and he pressed himself against her again, dragging her back into the vortex of desire.

They possessed each other in various ways, in various places, and in unprecedented ways.

……

Until the third night.

A light winter rain pattered against the windowpane.

The room was filled with a strong sense of lust and a faint scent of medicinal ointment.

Su Qingyao curled up in the center of the tidy bed.

She was covered with a thin blanket, only her shoulders and collarbone were exposed, covered with overlapping kiss marks and fingerprints, a testament to the madness of the past few dozen hours.

She slowly opened her eyes.

His gaze first stared blankly at the patterns on the ceiling, then gradually focused.

My body felt like it had been disassembled and reassembled; every bone was screaming in pain, especially my lower back, legs, and that overused area, which were burning and swollen.

But the burning emptiness and restlessness within him disappeared in a strange way.

All that remained was a deep-seated weariness, and a kind of... languidness and tranquility after a satisfying meal.

She tilted her head slightly.

Wen Yu leaned against the headboard, a bathrobe casually draped over his body, the straps loosely tied, revealing his chest, which was also covered with scratches and hickeys.

He was holding a tablet and quietly working on something, but half of his gaze remained fixed on her face.

Seeing that she had opened her eyes, he put down his tablet and leaned closer.

"Awake, baby?"

His voice was terribly hoarse, and the dark circles under his eyes showed that he was also extremely tired, but his eyes were surprisingly bright, filled with obvious concern and care.

Su Qingyao looked at him, and the fragments of her memory slowly pieced together.

The coldness of the laboratory, Song Yunyan's nauseating smell, the piercing alarm, the torrential downpour of cold water, the frantic heartbeat as he ran down the stairwell, the comforting scent of his embrace...

Then came the long, blurry days and nights, a tapestry of body temperature and gasps.

First came the relief of a false alarm, then her face slowly turned red, all the way to her ears.

She tried to pull the blanket up to cover her face, but Wen Yu gently pressed her wrist down.

"How are you feeling? Is there anything else that hurts?"

Wen Yu brushed away the sweat-dampened hair from her forehead with an incredibly gentle touch, a stark contrast to the man who had been so fierce and demanding of the antidote just a few days ago.

Su Qingyao shook her head, her throat dry and sore.

"thirsty……"

Wen Yu got up, poured some warm water, and helped her drink it carefully.

The warm water soothed her parched throat and also helped Su Qingyao clear her mind.

"The medicine..." she asked softly, her voice tinged with lingering fear and uncertainty, "has the effect worn off?"

Wen Yu gazed into her clear eyes, where the chaotic lust and madness had vanished, replaced only by familiar dependence and shyness.

The tension that had been building for three days and three nights finally began to ease.

"Yes," he lowered his head and gently kissed her eyelids, "It's off."

Su Qingyao's nose tingled, and the relief of surviving the ordeal and the grievances that had been building up over this period surged into her heart, and tears fell again.

Wen Yu pulled her and the blanket into his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head and holding her tightly in his arms.

"I'm sorry, baby."

He whispered, each word dripping with pain, "I made you go through all this."

Su Qingyao shook her head violently in his arms, choking back sobs, "It's not your fault, it's Song Yunyan... that bastard..."

Upon hearing this name, Wen Yu's aura suddenly turned cold.

His hand, which was patting her back, paused slightly, and a fierce glint flashed in his eyes.

He will never have the chance to appear in front of you again.

Su Qingyao lifted her tear-filled face from his embrace.

"I was so stupid."

She sniffed, her voice trembling with regret.

"I always thought too highly of others... The year my family went bankrupt, during my most desperate time, he stayed by my side and comforted me. I always remembered that kindness and thought he was at least someone I was grateful to... Who knew he was like this inside..."

Upon hearing this, Wen Yu's expression changed instantly.

"Baby," his voice was strained, his fingers gripping her shoulder unconsciously tightening, "what did you just say...?"

Su Qingyao lowered her head. "I said I misjudged people..."

"No," Wen Yu interrupted her, his Adam's apple bobbing violently, "the second half of the sentence, the year your family went bankrupt... who was with you?"

Although Su Qingyao was somewhat puzzled, she still obediently answered.

"Song Yunyan... At that time, my father passed away, my mother was in a vegetative state, and all my relatives and friends changed overnight. Only he talked to me on WeChat every day and gave me strength... He pulled me out of the abyss little by little. I was really grateful to him at that time."

Wen Yu's eyes were bloodshot.

A sweet and warm feeling surged into my heart, but it was quickly gripped by a cold hand and plunged into an icy abyss.

He never expected that she would remember that time spent with him so deeply and so intensely.

What she never expected was that she had always mistaken that person for Song Yunyan!

That bastard... dares to claim credit for this?

How dare he exploit the fact that he couldn't be there for her back then to gain her trust and gratitude?!

The killing intent reached its peak at this moment.

Wen Yu closed his eyes, forcibly suppressing his surging violence, and lowered his head to kiss Su Qingyao's forehead.

"Baby, wait for me a moment."

He carefully wrapped her up, then hurriedly put on his bathrobe and strode out of the bedroom.

Not long after, he returned with a brand new phone and an old phone whose casing was deformed and whose screen was cracked.

Under Su Qingyao's questioning gaze, his fingers trembled slightly as he took the SIM card out of the old phone and inserted it into the new phone.

The ten or so seconds it takes to boot up the computer feel incredibly long.

He couldn't wait to open WeChat.

The page slowly rotated, loading long-forgotten data bit by bit.

Wen Yu stared intently at the screen, holding his breath.

Finally, the interface refreshed.

The pinned chat box has the following description: 【Baby Slim】.

Immediately following, countless messages spanning more than a year flooded into view:

"Where is he? Where did he go?"

"You... what happened?"

"Finally finished exams! I can finally relax!"

"A classmate asked me to practice confessing my feelings and even asked me to write a love letter. I didn't know how to write it, so I ended up searching for a template online /shy~"

Why haven't you replied to my message yet?

"The results are out today."

"I did very well on the exam, I should be able to get into Peking University!"

"I've applied to the Physics Department at Kyoto University. Thank you for your support during this time. I won't have any more foolish thoughts; I'll pull myself together!"

……

One after another.

During the days when his bipolar disorder was at its worst, when he was out of control and hurting others and himself, and had to undergo closed treatment in the United States; during the long, dark period when his mother confiscated his phone and he was completely cut off from the outside world.

She had been talking to this silent profile picture that would never light up again, over and over again.

She shared the most trivial daily moments, confided her unspoken confusion, reported her hard-won joy, and also... explained the love letter that he stumbled upon and that drove him mad with misunderstanding.

It turns out she had already said it.

He underestimated the importance of this companionship across the screen in her life, and after recovering from his illness, he dared not open the chat window.

I fear seeing her reproach, and I fear even more seeing her forget me.

And so, arrogantly and cowardly, he missed a whole year of time when they should have walked side by side.

The last message was sent on the day they finally reunited and officially became a couple.

She wrote, "Thank you, goodbye."

—It is a gentle way of expressing final gratitude and bidding farewell to that distant yet warm "illusory companionship".