Zhuo Wenshu’s entire body was in pain, and the sudden movement he made left his face pale.
Shi Jiaojiao felt a surge of inappropriate laughter bubbling up inside her as she saw how furious he looked. But knowing better, she pressed her lips into a straight line and turned away with a sorrowful sigh, saying, “Don’t get upset. I’ll get you some water.”
She walked over to the water dispenser, and the moment she had her back to him, she grabbed the machine and silently shook with laughter, her body practically vibrating. Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears from holding it in, and by the time she returned, her flushed face made it seem as though she’d been crying.
She held the glass of water to Zhuo Wenshu’s lips, but he only glared at her without opening his mouth.
“Drink some water,” Shi Jiaojiao coaxed gently, “your lips are chapped.”
Zhuo Wenshu remained unmoving, his eyes fixed on her with a penetrating stare.
Sighing, she set the cup on the small bedside table, biting her fingertip lightly. This was her usual gesture whenever she was about to write something particularly melodramatic or deal with the misbehaving dog she had back home—her signature move when planning mischief.
After biting her finger, she leaned one hand against his pillow and suddenly leaned in close, so close that their breaths intertwined. Without looking into his eyes, Shi Jiaojiao fixated on his lips and slowly said, “Since you won’t drink the water, maybe I should moisten your lips another way…”
Zhuo Wenshu raised his good hand, attempting to grab her by the throat again, but Shi Jiaojiao quickly caught his hand. She held his gaze while she playfully puckered her brightly colored lips and planted a kiss on the back of his hand.
Zhuo Wenshu’s eyes widened, and he tried to struggle, but his injured body was bound, and any movement brought sharp pain. His eyes reddened with frustration, and Shi Jiaojiao took full advantage of his helplessness, reveling in her victory. She wasn’t foolish—if he weren’t immobilized, she wouldn’t dare provoke him like this. After all, this wasn’t the first time he’d strangled her to death.
Still, she knew better than to push her luck. If she didn’t handle things properly, Zhuo Wenshu might very well come after her once he recovered, and while dying wasn’t permanent for her, the experience of death was always real—and miserable. Not to mention the monotony of repeating the same plot over and over again was driving her mad.
Letting go of his hand, she picked up the cup again and brought it back to his lips. This time, Zhuo Wenshu finally opened his mouth, but as soon as she tilted the cup, she lost control of the flow. Water spilled down his throat, and the rest splashed down the side of his face, soaking into the pillow.
“Oh no!” Shi Jiaojiao immediately set the cup down, wiping the water from his lips. “I didn’t mean to—I lost control. It wasn’t on purpose.”
Her words dripped with insincerity, and with her track record, Zhuo Wenshu didn’t believe a single word she said. Even if it had been an accident, it still felt deliberate.
His expression darkened. Years spent in the grim, oppressive world of prison had left him with a permanent air of cold indifference—a dull, numbing hostility that had settled into his bones, lingering over him like a dark cloud.
Shi Jiaojiao used a tissue to wipe the water from his lips and flipped his pillow over, letting out a small sigh. She reached out to smooth the frown lines on his forehead. “Come on, don’t look like I assaulted you. It wasn’t on purpose.”
Not waiting for his scowl to deepen, she turned and left the room, heading to the nurse’s station. She returned with a straw, refilled the cup, and bent the straw before offering it to Zhuo Wenshu’s lips.
He clamped his mouth shut, refusing to drink. Shi Jiaojiao prodded him a few times, but his lips only pressed tighter.
Staring at him for a moment, Shi Jiaojiao’s eyes flicked between his stubborn face and his bound arms. A mischievous glint sparked in her eyes. Taking the cup in hand, she took a small sip of the water, then leaned forward, her lips suddenly pressing against his.
Zhuo Wenshu’s eyes shot open in shock. In that brief moment of surprise, Shi Jiaojiao took the opportunity to part his lips and pour the water into his mouth.
Zhuo Wenshu swung his hand toward her, but she was already a step ahead, retreating two paces and wiping her mouth with a smirk. Her bright, teasing eyes twinkled like a mischievous cat that had just stolen a fish.
Furious, Zhuo Wenshu found himself with a mouthful of water, unable to decide whether to swallow it or spit it out. Glaring at Shi Jiaojiao, he forgot his injuries and reached for the cup on the bedside table, hurling it in her direction.
Shi Jiaojiao hadn’t expected him to disregard his pain, and as the cup flew toward her, she instinctively wanted to duck. But something made her pause—she gritted her teeth and stood still.
The glass cup wasn’t thick, and Zhuo Wenshu’s strength was limited by his injuries. Still, when the cup hit her forehead, it shattered, sending her staggering back. She clutched her forehead as blood trickled down her face, biting down hard on her back teeth to stifle the curses flooding her mind. She was thoroughly convinced now—this guy really didn’t care about his own life.
With her hand pressed to her bleeding forehead, Shi Jiaojiao walked back to the bed and pressed the nurse’s call button.
Seeing the blood on her face seemed to calm Zhuo Wenshu down somewhat, or maybe it was the sheer pain in his body. Either way, he didn’t try to lash out again, though his face remained ghostly pale, and his eyes were full of murderous intent as he stared at her.
“What are you looking at?” Shi Jiaojiao forced a smile, gritting her teeth. “You’ve ruined my face. I’m not going to provoke you anymore.”
Having died multiple times already, this little injury didn’t faze her. She still managed to flash him a bitter grin, though it was tinged with a hint of resentment.
“Just hold still. The nurse will be here any second.” No sooner had the words left her mouth than the nurse entered.
“He moved too much earlier,” Shi Jiaojiao explained. “It might have caused more damage to his bones.”
The nurse, irritated at first, was ready to scold Shi Jiaojiao for her poor care, but upon seeing her bleeding forehead, the words caught in her throat. She hurried off to fetch the doctor.
While waiting, Shi Jiaojiao stood by the bed, watching Zhuo Wenshu closely. Realizing she had a rare opportunity, she decisively dropped to her knees beside the bed.
There’s no such thing as pride when your life’s on the line. Shi Jiaojiao had long abandoned any thought of saving face. Kneeling there, she leaned close to Zhuo Wenshu’s pillow, her voice soft and filled with guilt. “I know you hate me, Wenshu. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t mean to lose your mom,” she added. I was just trying to make your story tragic, to heighten the drama.
Zhuo Wenshu kept his eyes shut, refusing to look at her. But Shi Jiaojiao pressed even closer, her tone taking on a note of genuine emotion. “I know I was wrong, and I’ll make it up to you. I’ve cut ties with my dad—there’s no one left for me. From now on, your mom is my mom, and I’ll never make a mistake like that again. Just trust me once, okay?”
In reality, Shi Jiaojiao had no family in the real world either, just a stray dog that didn’t even know where to poop. Speaking these lines of “devotion” made her teeth ache, and she vowed that if she ever wrote another story, she wouldn’t pile on so much tragedy.
“Wenshu,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes—partly from the pain in her head and partly from her forced emotions. “I’m sorry for everything. You can do whatever you want—hit me, scold me—just don’t kill me. Please, let me live.”
Zhuo Wenshu let out a cold laugh and finally turned his head to look at her, his face full of mockery. So this is why she’s changed her tune—she’s scared of dying.
Shi Jiaojiao was about to continue when the door to the room opened. The doctor and two nurses came in to check on Zhuo Wenshu.
Shi Jiaojiao swallowed the rest of her words and stood up. She felt no shame in being seen kneeling by his bed—she had faced death too many times for something so trivial to matter.
The doctor, already frustrated with uncooperative patients, was prepared to give Zhuo Wenshu a stern lecture, but seeing both him and Shi Jiaojiao—the former drenched in cold sweat, the latter with blood running down her face—it was clear that the two had gotten into some kind of fight.
Such scenes weren’t uncommon between couples. With a sigh, the doctor didn’t bother scolding them, instead calling Shi Jiaojiao outside to have her wound treated.
Shi Jiaojiao returned quickly. Since she was a young woman, the doctor had personally treated her injury with extra care, even stitching it up neatly to minimize scarring. He had advised her to avoid certain foods to prevent the scar from becoming too prominent.
But Shi Jiaojiao listened half-heartedly. After all, this body wasn’t her real one—it was a better version of her actual self, complete with flawless skin and perfect curves. But it wasn’t truly hers, so she wasn’t particularly attached to it. If scarring her face could reduce Zhuo Wenshu’s resentment, she’d happily ruin it herself.
When she returned to the room, Shi Jiaojiao pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed, falling into a deep, thoughtful silence alongside the still-resentful Zhuo Wenshu.
It was a deadlock.
If she were in Zhuo Wenshu’s position, she’d feel the same. He had spent his best years rotting in prison, and now that he was out, of course, he would be out for blood. If someone had ruined her life like that, she’d be seeking revenge too.
And, of course, Zhuo Wenshu had already strangled her to death several times. The fact that she was still alive right now was nothing short of miraculous.
At this rate, who knew how long it would take to dissipate his resentment? She needed to escalate things, and fast.
As she sat there biting her finger in thought, Zhuo Wenshu, who had been lying there in silence, opened his eyes to see her deep in contemplation, fingers in her mouth.
His frustration mounted, and he squeezed his eyes shut again, the veins on his forehead throbbing with tension. But more pressing than his anger was the discomfort in his bladder, which was becoming unbearable.
He didn’t have a catheter, and while his legs weren’t broken, they were injured enough to prevent him from moving freely. However, the last thing he wanted to do was ask Shi Jiaojiao for help.
Despite his stubborn resolve, basic bodily needs won out in the end. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze met hers.
Seeing the struggle in his eyes, Shi Jiaojiao smiled gently. “You need to go to the bathroom, don’t you?”
She got up, calmly raised the bed a little, and pulled out a plastic urinal from underneath. In the most matter-of-fact tone, she asked, “Number one or number two? If it’s just number one, don’t bother getting up—you can do it right here.”
With that, she reached for the blanket to lift it.