Chapter 8 Nights in Chains
After that day, I didn’t see Liang Sheng for a long time while I healed.
I never figured out why he’d chosen to save me.
But he clearly wasn’t letting everything slide.
They locked me in the villa we used to share.
A chain on my good leg—long enough only for the second floor. A deaf-mute auntie brought meals three times a day.
Aside from the doctor changing bandages, I barely spoke to anyone.
Sometimes I’d wake up and find the other side of the bed rumpled, like someone had slept beside me.
I never caught them. Never confirmed it.
Until one night the auntie brought milk after dinner and motioned for me to drink.
I obeyed, waited for her to disappear down the stairs, then bolted to the spare bathroom and forced myself to throw it up.
That night, after pretending to sleep for three hours, I caught him.
I hooked an arm around his neck, slammed him down, straddled his waist, and raised a brow.
“Boss, sneaking in at night? Not exactly subtle.”
He froze for a second, then went calm.
“Didn’t plan on it working forever.”
He patted my hip.
“Get off. Still planning to fight?”
I went still.
I stared into his steady eyes and couldn’t move.
He patted again.
I finally climbed off, dragged my injured leg to the headboard, and sulked in silence.
Liang Sheng sat up in the dark. Didn’t look back.
I heard the rustle of his tie, then he grabbed clothes from the wardrobe and went to the bathroom.
Only when the shower started did I collapse into the pillows, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell kind of twisted story this had become.
When he came out, he met my blank stare.
He paused, then acted like nothing happened, slid into bed, and pulled me against his chest from behind.
The warmth at my back stirred something dead inside me—nervous, hopeful.
I waited for him to speak.
Nothing.
Finally I couldn’t take the weirdness.
“…Boss, you asleep?”
Long pause.
Then, voice rough: “What?”
I mumbled, awkward.
“You’re touching me.”
Silence.
I swallowed, tried to salvage it.
“The wound’s pretty much healed. If you want—”
He stiffened. One hand clamped over my mouth, teeth gritted.
“Shut up. Sleep.”
“…Oh.”
Maybe some of the drug was still in me. Once I knew he wasn’t angry, sleep pulled me under fast.
Half-dreaming, I thought I heard his voice, low against my neck.
“Zhou Wen… do you love me?”
I’d said pretty words to him a thousand times. This one didn’t even make me think.
I rolled over, wrapped my arms around him, and slurred, “Love you. How could I not? Love you to death.”
Silence.
Then, arms tightening, a muffled sound.
“Liar.”
I wanted to protest.
Sleep swallowed me before I could.