Who's the Puppy? - Chapter 4

Leaning against the smoking shelter at the hospital, I lit another cigarette and took stock of my progress over the past six months and more: withdrawing from him.

I’d done pretty well. At least when I’d called him my eldest brother in the ward today, I’d meant it, without any other intention.

I put out the cigarette and went back to campus. I spent the afternoon in the rare books library, then returned to my dorm that evening to keep revising my paper.

Mingkai called.

“Dad kicked up a fuss about being discharged this afternoon, so Jiang Chenye brought him home. Aren’t you coming back to put on a show of filial devotion?”

“No. You can do more of that yourself.”

He snorted. “Fine. Keep living off your two- or three-thousand-a-month stipend. I got the sleeping pills you wanted prescribed. Come pick them up yourself.”

I paused. “Couldn’t you bring them to me?”

“No. I’m busy.”

After he hung up, I took off my glasses and stared blankly at the computer.

I hadn’t slept in three days. But I’d already seen Chenye today. My therapist hadn’t taught me how to handle seeing him twice in less than a day.

I dragged it out until ten, figuring I probably wouldn’t run into him, then took a taxi to the Jiang house.

Mingkai was just coming out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of soup.

“Perfect timing. Dad had the housekeeper make Jiang Chenye some hangover soup. Take it up to him.”

I frowned. He volunteered an explanation.

“One of Dad’s friends came over while we were having dinner. You know how Dad cares about appearances—he insisted on bringing out the liquor to entertain him. He can’t drink himself, so he made Jiang Chenye and me keep the guy company.”

My expression chilled. “Did you make him drink?”

Mingkai’s eyes darted away. “With Dad right there? How could I? He only had two or three glasses. Dad noticed he wasn’t looking right and sent him upstairs, then had the housekeeper make the soup.”

I said nothing. Mingkai lost patience.

“Don’t go, then. I’m not the one suffering.”

He made to leave. I sighed and held out my hand. “Give me the bowl. And the pills.”

He produced a little white bottle. “Go easy on these. They’re habit-forming.”

I murmured an acknowledgment and carried the soup upstairs.

Outside Chenye’s bedroom, I knocked three times without an answer. After a moment’s hesitation, I took a deep breath, pressed down the handle, and went in.

The room was dark. The only light came through the glass bathroom door.

I walked carefully across the carpet, set the soup beside the bed, and called toward the bathroom.

“Brother, I’ve brought you—”

The door opened before I finished.

Jiang Chenye stepped out barefoot, a bath towel around his waist, water beading on his bare upper body. A few strands of thick black hair hung over his forehead.

With the light behind him, I couldn’t make out his expression. But instinctively, I sensed danger.

He watched me and advanced slowly. I backed away without thinking until my calves hit the edge of the bed. There was nowhere left to go.

“Brother…”

“What are you doing in here?” His voice was so hoarse it rasped.

Up close, I could feel how hot he was. Worry overtook my nerves. “Brother, have you caught a cold?”

“A cold?” He looked at the soup by the bed and gave a mocking laugh.

His hand clamped around my lower back and pulled me against him. Our lower bodies met, and I went rigid.

However slow I was, I understood now.

Jiang Mingkai had tricked me again.

Slashing up Chenye’s completed homework, then tricking me into bringing him a new notebook. Giving me a glass of expired milk on the eve of a competition, then tricking me into taking it to Chenye. Breaking his trophy, then tricking me into comforting him.

And tonight: drugging him, then tricking me into bringing him hangover soup.

It had happened so often that I didn’t even know how to begin explaining.

“Jiang Yunsheng, do you still think I have a cold?”

I dug my nails into my palm and didn’t dare answer. I crouched, reaching for his towel with trembling hands.

He caught my arm, hauled me upright, and threw me onto the bed. Then he bent over me and gripped my throat.

His heavy breath struck my face as he spoke, each word distinct.

“Six months without seeing me. Bored again, are you?”

“Is it fun playing tricks on me, Jiang Yunsheng?”

I looked at him. I wanted to hold him, but tears slipped down beyond my control.

“Brother, I’m sorry…”

All I could say was sorry.

A tearing pain took my voice away. My tears rolled down numbly.

At last, Jiang Chenye was willing to look at me. I reached out.

“…Brother.”

I got the embrace I wanted.

“…I’m sorry.”

Day broke. My lower abdomen still twitched faintly. My eyes were swollen and my voice was hoarse.

No matter how I’d begged him last night, Jiang Chenye hadn’t softened at all.

I struggled upright. The covers slipped from my waist. My skin didn’t feel sticky, but there wasn’t an unmarked patch of it left.

I fished a T-shirt from the foot of the bed and shook it out. It was crumpled.

Where were my trousers? They were gone.

As I sat there dazed, the bathroom door opened. I looked up.

Jiang Chenye was fully dressed, his tie immaculate. He looked calm, as though nothing had happened last night.

“Brother,” I called softly.

He came over and asked coldly, “Can you get pregnant?”

I froze, then shook my head in embarrassment. “No.”

After a moment, I lowered my eyes and added, “Even if I did… I’d have an abortion.”