Translator: Lynn
Trigger warning: Self Harm
Sponsored chapter (2/2)
As Cheng Ke’s sand art performance progressed, he realized that Jiang Yuduo was no longer on the first floor.
He knew Jiang Yuduo was smoking outside the back door; he had seen him while reentering after his smoke break. Yet, as Cheng Ke intermittently looked over the crowd, he couldn’t spot Jiang Yuduo.
Upstairs?
The first floor was bustling with activity—music, chatter, laughter—creating an environment brimming with unfamiliarity, which might have been somewhat overwhelming for Jiang Yuduo.
Cheng Ke was uncertain whether Jiang Yuduo simply sought some space away from the crowd or if he had witnessed or heard something specific.
Although he had granted Jiang Yuduo permission to retreat to the third floor, the realization that Jiang Yuduo had actually left sent a pang of anxiety through him.
As the sand slipped through his fingers, Cheng Ke momentarily paused, his fingers brushing the surface once more, but he suddenly couldn’t remember the image he intended to create.
Thankfully, today’s performance was just for enjoyment, and using his left hand again attracted no attention. No one noticed Cheng Ke’s fingers faltering on the sand. However, Xu Ding, stationed by the bar, lifted his gaze.
Cheng Ke met his gaze, offered a reassuring smile, and signaled that he was alright.
With the absentminded performance concluding, Cheng Ke stepped aside. Staff members approached to gather his supplies, and attendees conversed in small groups.
Halting briefly, Cheng Ke navigated through the crowd, making his way toward the staircase.
“Xiao Ke,” Xu Ding called out, approaching him.
“Hmm,” Cheng Ke paused.
“Are you alright?” Xu Ding inquired.
“I’m fine,” Cheng Ke responded.
He looked at Mr. Li, who stood behind Xu Ding, offered an apologetic smile, and whispered to Xu Ding, “I’ll go upstairs and be right back. Did you see San-ge just now?”
“I saw him before the performance,” Xu Ding replied, taken aback. “Is he missing?”
“Perhaps he’s on the upper floor; the crowd might be overwhelming for him,” Cheng Ke explained with a hint of embarrassment. “I’ll go check.”
Xu Ding patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Alright.”
Cheng Ke ascended the stairs swiftly, exchanging nods and smiles with a few familiar faces along the way. Upon reaching the second floor, he noticed an absence of people and continued his ascent to the third floor.
Compared to the bustling lower levels, the third floor was markedly quieter, with hardly a sound to be heard.
“Jiang Yuduo!” Cheng Ke called out without hesitation as he opened the compartment door, knocking twice before speaking again. “Jiang Yuduo? Are you in there?” His words echoed unanswered. Cheng Ke pushed open the door and stepped inside. “Jiang Yuduo!”
However, the room was vacant, devoid of any presence. The air carried a stillness that seemed to gauge whether anyone had recently entered or left.
This unsettling situation repeated itself countless times, and Cheng Ke grew increasingly agitated.
He rushed to the window, peering out through several of them, but Jiang Yuduo was nowhere in sight. Descending the stairs, he dashed outside the store, scanning the surroundings. His apprehension mounting, he hailed a taxi from the street, got in, and provided Jiang Yuduo’s address.
Throughout the taxi ride, Cheng Ke repeatedly called Jiang Yuduo’s number, yet each attempt went unanswered.
Dialing again, Cheng Ke resolved that if this call didn’t receive a response, he would call Chen Qing and implore him to locate Jiang Yuduo immediately. Though aware of Jiang Yuduo’s desire for privacy, Cheng Ke was genuinely concerned. Chen Qing might not respond in the most tactful manner due to his unique thought process.
This time, the phone remained unanswered; it rang but was eventually disconnected without an answer.
Cheng Ke clutched his phone, biting his lip, and hastily sent Jiang Yuduo a text message.
– Where are you?
Jiang Yuduo’s response appeared on his screen.
– Home.
Cheng Ke’s tension eased slightly; if Jiang Yuduo could still reply to messages and read his phone, then the situation might not be dire. Yet, something was clearly amiss.
“Driver, please hurry. It’s an emergency,” Cheng Ke requested, his urgency palpable.
“We’re about to take off,” the driver responded, pressing on the accelerator.
The car came to a halt at the intersection near Jiang Yu’s apartment building. Cheng Ke placed the money on the dashboard, opened the door, and stepped out of the car. “Thank you, no need to look for change,” he said, even though fumbling for his keys with one hand was getting on his nerves. Meanwhile, his phone continued to ring incessantly.
With the key between his teeth, Cheng Ke managed to answer the call. The caller was Xu Ding. Given how he abruptly left the opening event without informing Xu Ding, he couldn’t ignore the call at this moment.
“Hey Xu Ding, I’m sorry,” he said while entering the building’s corridor. “I have an urgent matter…”
“Is it about San-ge?” Xu Ding interjected.
“…Yes,” Cheng Ke replied with a pause. “It’s nothing serious; I just came back to check on something.”
“You disappeared all of a sudden; I couldn’t find you anywhere,” Xu Ding explained. “Pass the news to Mr. Li, please.”
“I apologize for this,” Cheng Ke’s voice was low as he opened his apartment door. “Let Mr. Li know that I’ll arrange another time for dinner and personally apologize.”
“Keep me posted,” Xu Ding said.
“Thank you.” Cheng Ke ended the call.
As he stepped inside his apartment, the room was serene, yet bathed in bright sunlight. The previously drawn curtains were now open wide, filling the living room and both bedrooms with light. The sudden brightness momentarily dazzled Cheng Ke.
“Jiang Yuduo!” he called out, his voice echoing through the space. “I’m back!”
Meow, the cat, sat on the sofa and emitted a meow in response.
“Where’s your brother?” Cheng Ke playfully asked the cat, who meowed again.
Cheng Ke rushed into the backyard, shouting, “Jiang…”
His words came to an abrupt halt at the sight before him.
Jiang Yuduo was seated at the edge of the flower bed against the backyard wall. His head hung low, elbows rested on his knees, and his cell phone was gripped tightly in his hand.
His hands were smeared with blood.
Cheng Ke’s eyes caught sight of blood drops falling onto the ground.
“What’s happened?” He hurried over, crouching in front of Jiang Yuduo. His voice shook intensely as he asked the question.
“Did I interrupt your business?” Jiang Yuduo replied.
“No, nothing’s wrong, I came back for this reason.” Cheng Ke’s gaze was fixed on Jiang Yuduo, his apprehension preventing him from making physical contact. Instead, he visually examined Jiang Yuduo’s face, checking for any remaining injuries.
“I heard you,” Jiang Yuduo stated.
“Huh?” Cheng Ke was taken aback.
“I overheard your conversation,” Jiang Yuduo clarified.
“That was just a formality,” Cheng Ke said while carefully touching his own face. He then lowered his head to inspect Jiang Yuduo’s face for injuries and to gauge his expression. “We should sit down and talk properly. I’ll leave now.”
“It wasn’t just a formality,” Jiang Yuduo disagreed.
Cheng Ke let out a sigh. “I…”
“I’ll always be…” Jiang Yuduo looked up, his voice wavering. “I’ve been a hindrance to your endeavors.”
“What?” Cheng Ke inquired.
“I’m causing you trouble,” Jiang Yuduo admitted.
“You’re not,” Cheng Ke assured him. “Even if there are challenges, they’re challenges I can handle. A challenge that’s manageable isn’t necessarily a bad thing.” Cheng Ke said, “If today…”
“If I hadn’t come back today…” Jiang Yuduo’s voice trailed off.
“Huh?” Cheng Ke’s focus sharpened on Jiang Yuduo’s face.
Cheng Ke could now see the scratches on Jiang Yuduo’s face — beneath his eyes and on his forehead. Although the injuries weren’t grave, a few tiny beads of blood had already dried.
However, the most heartbreaking aspect was Jiang Yuduo’s eyes — filled with a mixture of regret, helplessness, and despair.
“If I were at your shop,” Jiang Yuduo lifted his hand. A rough cut several inches long on the back of his hand came into Cheng Ke’s view. Blood spurted out, marking his arm with long crimson streaks. “Can you imagine?”
Cheng Ke didn’t reply verbally but reached out to clasp Jiang Yuduo’s hand.
“Here,” Jiang Yuduo handed him the phone.
“What’s this?” Cheng Ke accepted the phone.
“Look,” Jiang Yuduo’s voice turned hoarse, “I recorded it.”
Cheng Ke remained speechless for a long moment, his question finally coming out, “What did you record?”
Jiang Yuduo stood up, heading to the pool area. He turned on the faucet, washing his face with cold water, and rinsing the wound on his hand. After a while, he leaned against the sink, looking at Cheng Ke. “Self-harm,” he admitted, his voice carrying a heavy weight.
Cheng Ke’s breath caught.
“I need to tend to this wound,” Jiang Yuduo said. He turned off the tap, walked into the house, and added, “Head to the bedroom and see for yourself. Close the door.”
Cheng Ke remained frozen, squatting where he was, staring at the phone in his hand.
Jiang Yuduo’s hands were stained with blood, which had consequently marked the phone. Several bloody fingerprints adorned the darkened screen.
Cheng Ke remained frozen for a moment, then retrieved a tissue from his pocket, moistened it in the sink, and meticulously wiped away the blood from the phone’s surface.
The paper towel was soon tainted with a crimson hue.
With his phone in hand, he entered the room. Jiang Yuduo had taken off his shirt and was seated shirtless at the table in the living room. The wound on his hand had been roughly wrapped, with gauze stuck on it, yet the bleeding hadn’t ceased entirely. It seemed to be holding on temporarily, as small patches of red still seeped through the gauze.
Jiang Yuduo seemed to pay little heed to the bleeding, as he was presently pouring alcohol onto another wound on his arm.
It was then that Cheng Ke realized his own clothes were also stained with blood, and the gash on his arm resembled a stab wound.
Standing behind Jiang Yuduo for a brief moment, Cheng Ke concluded that Jiang Yuduo was well aware of his presence, though he refrained from turning around.
Following Jiang Yuduo’s instructions, Cheng Ke entered the bedroom and quietly shut the door.
Summoning his courage, he powered on the screen and initiated the video playback.
The most recent video file’s name indicated it had been recorded about thirty minutes ago, likely after Jiang Yuduo had replied to his message.
Perhaps aware that Cheng Ke would soon return home, and that “they” hadn’t left yet…
The video commenced.
Cheng Ke’s hands trembled violently, causing the camera to shake and spin uncontrollably. He had to place the phone on the bed, and then sit beside it, instinctively curling his arms around his knees.
“Who’s there?”
The screen continued to waver, a chaotic blend of darkness and flickering lights. Cheng Ke discerned Jiang Yuduo’s voice.
“Show yourself…”
“I saw you!”
Jiang Yuduo’s voice thundered through the recording. Cheng Ke caught a glimpse of Jiang Yuduo’s visage flashing across the screen — a face contorted with anger and bloodshot eyes, almost as if they were ablaze.
Cheng Ke could sense his muscles tensing incrementally, not due to Jiang Yuduo’s fury, but rather his bewildered gaze. Under the veneer of anger, his eyes appeared vacant.
Despite the camera’s constant movement, Cheng Ke managed to ascertain that it was positioned in the backyard.
He spotted the lamp Jiang Yuduo had repositioned, now suspended beneath the eaves.
A muffled thud resonated from the phone, suggesting Jiang Yuduo had collided with something.
Subsequently, the camera began to rise, presumably lifted by Jiang Yuduo.
The screen shook violently, yet Cheng Ke was able to discern Jiang Yuduo’s countenance.
Pressed against the wall, inch by inch, leaving a streak of crimson where his eye had grazed the surface, Jiang Yuduo winced in pain, gasping for air. A tear trickled down his cheek, the dusty surface leaving a clean trail.
The phone slipped from his grip and fell to the ground, the screen remaining stationary, capturing only the lower half of Jiang Yuduo’s body.
He slouched against the wall, his feet scuffing the ground as if striving to rise.
Eventually, he kicked off and tumbled to the earth.
Within the camera’s view, Cheng Ke witnessed Jiang Yuduo’s left hand clenching onto his right hand, fingers sliding slowly yet forcefully. A pale cut emerged on the back of his hand, rapidly followed by a spurt of blood.
“It’s not real… It’s not… I saw you… Don’t hide!”
Jiang Yuduo’s voice escalated from a low murmur to a crescendo, culminating in a roar as he vehemently thrashed his arms and leaped to his feet.
Had this not unfolded in such a bizarre context, Cheng Ke might have exclaimed at the sight of Jiang Yuduo’s dramatic action.
The manner in which Jiang Yuduo propelled himself upward held a certain elegance, his waist and legs tracing a graceful arc. Yet, juxtaposed with this elegant motion was a descent into madness.
As Jiang Yuduo’s left hand reentered the frame, it held an additional object—a knife. Without a moment’s hesitation, the blade’s tip plunged into his right arm.
Suddenly, Cheng Ke lunged forward and extended his hand toward the screen.
He wanted to halt Jiang Yuduo’s actions.
His hand hovered in front of the mobile phone screen, watching the knife’s tip slide neatly across Jiang Yuduo’s forearm through his fingers, witnessing the blood seeping from the fresh wound.
Jiang Yuduo discarded the knife, clutching his injured arm in an attempt to stanch the bleeding.
He panted, his brows furrowing.
He remained motionless against the wall for a prolonged moment.
“No… no no no no…”
Jiang Yuduo’s face remained out of sight, but his voice resonated through the camera.
“It’s Cheng Ke, it’s Cheng Ke, it’s Cheng Ke… he’s coming back soon… It’s Cheng Ke… here, don’t go there… don’t go, don’t touch him… It’s Cheng Ke, don’t touch Cheng Ke…”
Jiang Yuduo spoke softly, the target of his words unclear—whether they were directed outward or inward.
Then, silence descended.
Cheng Ke fixated on the time displayed on the screen. After approximately two minutes, Jiang Yuduo extended a bloodied hand, retrieved the phone, and turned the camera toward himself.
“I will hurt you,” Jiang Yuduo addressed the camera, his gaze locking onto Cheng Ke.
The image froze at this juncture, and the video ceased.
Around ten minutes later, Cheng Ke emerged from the bedroom, moving cautiously.
Jiang Yuduo had already dressed his wound and was seated at the table, jotting something down on a piece of cigarette case paper. Spotting Cheng Ke’s entrance, Jiang Yuduo set aside his pen, gathered the papers, and slipped them back into his pocket.
“Finished?” he inquired.
“Yeah,” Cheng Ke responded, placing the phone on the table before taking a seat.
Jiang Yuduo stood up and poured him a glass of water.
Cheng Ke accepted the glass and downed its contents, wiping his mouth before fixing his gaze on Jiang Yuduo.
Jiang Yuduo had cleaned up, and changed his clothes, and apart from the wounds on his hands and face, he appeared entirely normal. Almost, that is—considering that the third brother often had injuries. Had Cheng Ke not witnessed the video, he could never have imagined that the Jiang Yuduo sitting across from him, appearing so ordinary, had gone through such a harrowing ordeal just twenty minutes prior.
Even though Cheng Ke had been informed by Sister Luo about Jiang Yuduo’s self-harm tendencies, the sheer shock still rendered him speechless.
“If you’d arrived ten minutes earlier,” Jiang Yuduo lit a cigarette, “I might have stabbed you with a knife.”
“Are you lucid?” Cheng Ke struggled to speak, his words catching in his throat, “You were mistaking me for someone else.”
“It wasn’t a mistake,” Jiang Yuduo raised his gaze to meet Cheng Ke’s eyes, “I know you’re Cheng Ke, but I still believed you were extremely dangerous. You could be manipulated, threatened, or exploited by others. They might have sent you to kill me.”
Cheng Ke remained silent.
Jiang Yuduo extended a cigarette to him, asking, “Want one?”
Cheng Ke accepted the cigarette, taking two deep drags. Quickly regaining his composure, he inquired, “Can you anticipate these feelings of danger or loss of control?”
“Most of the time,” Jiang Yuduo confirmed.
“Alright,” Cheng Ke locked eyes with him, “next time, regardless of where you are, the time, or the situation, if you feel that way, just tell me—don’t run away.”
Jiang Yuduo also stared at him, and after a brief silence, he nodded in agreement. “Alright.”
“We can confront it together,” Cheng Ke reassured him, “No matter what you encounter, we’re in this together. Just remember that I am the real one. I’m your connection to the real world—I’m still here, and you’re here.”
Jiang Yuduo observed him for a prolonged moment.
“Did you hear me?” Cheng Ke inquired, finally breaking the silence.
“I heard,” Jiang Yuduo confirmed.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Cheng Ke announced, standing up. He planted a firm kiss on Jiang Yuduo’s forehead, trying his best to appear composed and to ensure Jiang Yuduo didn’t perceive this situation as overwhelmingly serious. “I smell like fireworks.”
“I’ll join you,” Jiang Yuduo offered.
“No need,” Cheng Ke smiled, “Avoid getting water on your wound. I’ll just take a quick shower.”
Jiang Yuduo remained silent.
Cheng Ke grabbed fresh clothes and entered the bathroom.
As he took off his trousers, a flicker of concern crossed his mind. He tugged at his woolen sweater, which had almost lost its sleeves when Jiang Yuduo helped him put it on earlier in the day. It seemed he might struggle to take it off on his own.
Just as he contemplated whether to call for Jiang Yuduo’s assistance, the bathroom door swung open.
“Why are you…” Cheng Ke began to turn his head.
Jiang Yuduo burst into the bathroom, swiftly maneuvered his hand around the door, and lunged at Cheng Ke, pressing their lips together in a fervent kiss.
Caught entirely off guard, Cheng Ke found himself pushed against the wall.
Jiang Yuduo proceeded to nibble and nip at Cheng Ke’s face and neck, his actions a whirlwind of passion. Cheng Ke could even feel the sensation of Jiang Yuduo’s teeth grazing his eyelids.
Cheng Ke had only ever experienced Jiang Yuduo’s fervor in the realm of his dreams, yet this was the first time it was tangible and tenderly real.
Amidst Cheng Ke’s slightly erratic breathing, Jiang Yuduo’s hoarse voice sounded next to his ear, “Do you want it?”
“…What?” Cheng Ke hesitated, “Aren’t you the one who’s against getting intimate?”
“No intimacy,” Jiang Yuduo stated, “Do you want to…?”
Cheng Ke felt an explosion resonate deep within him, as though shockwaves could knock him off his feet. He felt his heart ascend to the heavens; there was not even a fraction of a second’s hesitation. “Yes.”
Translator’s Notes:
Babyyyy QAQ
Please let me know if there are typos/mistakes in the chapter.
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