Chapter Twenty-Nine: Bite Marks

Night had deepened, and the lights in the wards outside were extinguished one by one. Jiang Chen brought in a folding recliner from outside, turned off the light, and the room was instantly plunged into darkness, with only the hazy glow of city lights drifting in through the window.

Leaning against her pillow, Ye Mian, perhaps having slept too much these past days, found herself occasionally dizzy and unable to fall asleep. The soft breathing from the bed beside her belonged to another patient, yet Ye Mian's heartbeat never slowed. She was used to solitude, rarely sharing a room with anyone at night.

The feeling was strange; the slumber she'd been brewing for so long dissipated, leaving her mind ever clearer and her mouth dry. She turned slightly, and in the faint light, could make out the outline of the young man.

Jiang Chen remained motionless, seemingly particularly short on sleep. On the table sat two cups; Ye Mian carefully reached out, feeling along the edge of the table. At that moment, her fingertips brushed against something cold.

The night light flicked on at the sound. In its glow, Ye Mian saw Jiang Chen had already opened his almond-shaped eyes. One hand pressed the switch by the window; the other, previously shielding his forehead from the light, was now gently held in her grasp.

A moment of silence passed. Ye Mian immediately drew back her hand, whispering apologetically, "Sorry, I woke you."

Ignoring her apology, Jiang Chen turned to meet her gaze, his words languid and low from sleep, "What's wrong? What are you reaching for?"

Ye Mian glanced at the water cup on the table, "I wanted a drink."

Jiang Chen sat up, his slender, fair fingers curling around the cup, handing her the handle with a helpless smile. "If you want water, just tell me."

Ye Mian sniffed, took a sip from the cup, then nodded obediently. "Alright, I know now." It was only because she didn't want to disturb him.

Jiang Chen patiently waited for her to finish, took the cup from her, set it back on the table, and then turned off the night light again.

"It's late. Try to sleep now."

His cool voice carried a gentle cadence; with the two of them so close, Ye Mian felt as if Jiang Chen were whispering in her ear. She pulled the quilt up over her mouth and nose, leaving only her lively apricot eyes gazing at the ceiling, and softly replied, "Alright, I'll sleep."

After speaking, sleep finally overcame her; her brows relaxed, and her breathing grew steady and slow.

No one knew how much of the night had passed when the morning mist enveloped them in a chill. Dawn gradually broke over the city, not yet bright enough to illuminate the buildings.

Jiang Chen arrived beneath the hospital, where many breakfast stalls had already opened, the local dishes wafting hot, fragrant steam. He bought a serving of porridge, added a carton of milk and an egg, then turned upstairs.

The ward was still dim; the girl slept sweetly, strands of hair clinging to her face. He placed the breakfast on the table, then gently pulled the quilt up over her waist, careful not to disturb her. He also quietly slipped the red envelope she had given him yesterday behind her phone case.

Only after all this did a faint smile flicker in his tired eyes, ignoring the burning pain in his stomach as he left the hospital.

May Day, the time when all students were on holiday.

Jiang Chen walked up to the door of an apartment, pressed the doorbell. The autumn wind was particularly fierce that morning, carrying the brightness of early winter amid its bleakness. He waited five minutes before someone unlocked the door, and he strolled inside.

On the second floor, the lady of the house had already opened the door for him. Seeing him climb the stairs, she nodded, let him in, and handed him slippers to change into.

He put on the slippers and followed her to the study. The apartment was spacious, a single-level home full of warmth, with furnishings exuding a genteel air.

Inside, a little boy was playing with an airplane model. The lady quietly said to Jiang Chen, "Xiao Jiang, sorry to trouble you. You know you weren't here these past couple of days, and my son hasn't done any homework. As we agreed, that's your responsibility."

Jiang Chen's gaze remained calm; he nodded expressionlessly.

She continued, "You know, you're still a student yourself, but we hired you as a tutor because of your academic excellence. We pay you well, but this can't happen again."

The little boy, hearing the commotion, staggered over. Seeing the tutor, he immediately wailed, "Waaah—!"

The lady rushed to scoop him up. "What's wrong, darling? Why are you crying?"

The boy buried his face in her shoulder. "Mom, I don't want to study. I want to play with my toys." He cried, tugged at her clothes, and pouted, looking as pitiful as could be.

The woman felt for him, but for his sake, she resisted the urge to send Jiang Chen away, pried her son's hands off, and gently coaxed him, "How can you not study? If you don't, how will you become an outstanding person?"

Yet as the boy pouted, she couldn't bear it either. She knelt and soothed him softly for several moments before rising.

The boy was unhappy. Usually the little tyrant of the house, seeing his mother refuse him, he angrily picked up the metal plane, ready to strike her head.

Jiang Chen watched, caught the boy's hand. The child wriggled, then turned and bit Jiang Chen's arm, his eyes flashing with ignorant ferocity.

Children lose teeth at this age, making their jaws look jagged—comical, but also particularly painful when they bite.

"Xiao Bao, no, this is your teacher," the lady panicked, rushing over to pull her son away. She lifted his chin to check him; thankfully, his chubby face wasn't hurt.

She let out a breath, then looked apologetically at Jiang Chen. The young man stood there, blood welling from irregular bite marks on his arm, forming a crimson trail in seconds—surely it hurt terribly.

Seeing him still calm, not angry, she took two hundred yuan from her purse. "Sorry, Xiao Jiang, take this. Please don't mind the child; he doesn't understand."

She knew her own son best—his mischief had driven away many teachers, leaving her with a poor reputation and few willing to come. She had no choice but to settle on Jiang Chen: good grades, his own parents gone, in need of money, and not easy to dismiss.

Jiang Chen took the money, silent as ever. After washing his hands, he grabbed Xiao Bao's backpack, pulled out the textbooks, his tone flat. "Come do your homework."

Xiao Bao was the classic household tyrant, pampered into lawlessness, refusing to comply and sprawling on the floor in protest.

With the lesson stalling, the lady had no choice but to leave, locking the door behind her.

Xiao Bao's crying stopped abruptly; he watched his mother leave, slapped the floor hard with his palm.

Jiang Chen didn't try to comfort him, simply watched him perform.

After ten minutes of banging and fussing, Xiao Bao finally grew bored, crawled over to Jiang Chen, and began his homework.