Pathological Attachment

"Got it." Jiang Wenzhe's sharp, eagle-like eyes narrowed slightly, his voice low and hoarse.

He took a new bottle of body wash from the cabinet, opened it, and rapped his knuckles against the frosted glass door.

The sound of water stopped abruptly.

The glass door slid open just a crack, and the heat behind it seemed to take shape, spilling outward with dampness. Sticky, humid air hit Jiang Wenzhe full in the face, as if the sweltering warmth were trying to drag him inside.

The door opened wider, and Lin Sangyu's head peeked out. Her fair, jade-like face was dotted with traces of water, her dark lashes trembling slightly, her red lips steamed by the moisture like a ripe, juicy berry in high summer—squeeze them and they'd burst with juice.

Then a pale arm, like a section of lotus root, reached out and grabbed his hand holding the body wash. She beamed, flashing a few white teeth: "Thanks, Jiang Wenzhe."

He saw it.

He saw a drop of steaming water fall from her lashes, plunge straight into her delicate collarbone, slide down her chest as it rose and fell with each breath, and slowly disappear below.

"Whoosh—" The door closed again.

Jiang Wenzhe stood rooted to the spot, motionless. The bathroom's half-length mirror, in the haze, reflected his tall, straight back.

He covered his face with one hand, his ears burning slightly.

He regretted it.

But on second thought, what had he done wrong?

Wasn't Lin Sangyu always pawing at his door while he showered?

All he was doing was returning the favor.

There was nothing wrong with that.

*

Seizing the opportunity of going viral, Lin Sangyu immediately put all the theoretical knowledge she'd learned into practice.

Riding the wave of attention, she posted a video of herself eating fried silkworm pupae. The camera angle was bizarre—an exaggerated mosquito's-eye view.

Lin Sangyu mounted the camera rig on top of her head and turned on the 0.5x wide-angle lens, with the sugar glider and the food plate each occupying half the frame. It made her eyes look enormous and the food extra tempting.

As expected, that video also got a modest burst of popularity. Between the two platforms she posted on, one broke 500k likes and the other broke 690k.

The comment section was buzzing.

[So there really are pets this cute.]

[Is this the marriage-proposal messenger sugar glider? Even cuter up close.]

[I can't take it. I get off work and just need to look at cute little animals like this to heal my toxic heart.]

[Got a link for the fried pupae, streamer?]

[Does the streamer usually keep the door closed? If not, mind sharing the address?]

Lin Sangyu stared at the glorious 99+ notification count and kept tapping back in to admire it.

Private messages in her inbox were also piling up, including quite a few from advertisers.

Lin Sangyu checked the products they wanted her to promote, but she'd never tried any of them, and when she searched online, she basically found no trace of them either.

As much as she wanted to earn money, she couldn't take dirty cash, so she politely prepared to decline them one by one.

Halfway through replying while lying on the couch, she heard the door open.

Lin Sangyu immediately sat up and called out toward the dark silhouette in the doorway: "Jiang Wenzhe."

Summer was in full swing. Jiang Wenzhe wore a finely made white shirt, and on his uncovered arms, several prominent veins wound beneath the skin. Apart from the wristwatch on his arm, he had no other accessories—clean and refreshing.

He was carrying a white gift bag and walked toward Lin Sangyu with steady steps, the light scattering fine, silvery shadows across his broad shoulders.

Lin Sangyu sat on the sofa. He came close and crouched beside her, his broad, generous palm taking her hand.

He didn't say a word the whole time, just kept his head half-lowered, quietly taking a pale blue bracelet out of the gift box, then carefully slipping it onto her wrist.

From Lin Sangyu's angle, she could see his nose, tall and sharp as a peak, and his thick lashes fluttering as he blinked.

Noticing how he was half-kneeling, Lin Sangyu's mind went blank, and she suddenly had a wild association with the scene of Tang Lin kneeling to propose two days ago.

Without warning, blood rushed to her head, and her heartbeat quickened.

After fastening the bracelet, Jiang Wenzhe finally looked up and met Lin Sangyu's eyes. His long, narrow black eyes seemed to hold a power that could easily make a person sink into them. His voice was gravelly: "I was at the mall today and saw a bracelet. Thought it suited you, so I bought it."

She didn't dare meet his gaze any longer. Lin Sangyu hurriedly lowered her eyelids to look at the bracelet. It was a simple yet elegant piece, very much in line with Jiang Wenzhe's taste—a mermaid tail set with tiny gems, its scales smooth and lustrous, light shimmering around her wrist.

"It's beautiful. I'll wear it forever." Lin Sangyu's fingertips traced the mermaid tail, speaking from the bottom of her heart.

"If you like bracelets, you can go to the mall yourself and pick out ones you like. You don't have to wear the same one all the time," Jiang Wenzhe said. "But you need to bring a bodyguard. Don't go running off on your own."

"No need. I only like this one." Lin Sangyu suddenly leaned back and immediately shielded the bracelet with her other hand, as if Jiang Wenzhe were about to snatch it away.

"Suit yourself, then." Jiang Wenzhe stood up and ruffled Lin Sangyu's hair. "And there's something else I need to tell you."

"What is it?" Lin Sangyu looked up at him.

"I'm going on a business trip the day after tomorrow. I'll be out of town and won't be coming home after that." He said it word by word, his gaze imperceptibly locking onto Lin Sangyu's face.

"What?!" Panic flashed across Lin Sangyu's expression, her voice trembling slightly as she asked, "H-how long will you be gone?"

Jiang Wenzhe took another big step back, looking as if he were about to leave, and tossed out a carefree line: "Not sure. Maybe half a month."

"Half a month—that's fifteen days!"

Fifteen days meant three hundred and sixty hours without seeing Jiang Wenzhe.

A deep anxiety and despair crawled up Lin Sangyu's spine, and she felt as though invisible spiderwebs filled the air.

She felt like she was going to be murdered this summer.

Why did a business trip mean leaving her behind?

Her emotions were already teetering on the edge of collapse, and she said in a pleading tone, "Can you not go?"

"Please."

"I have to go this time." Jiang Wenzhe looked at her frantic, flustered expression, the corners of his eyes lifting slightly, a fierce obsession churning beneath them. "The new project is launching, and I need to show my face at a lot of things."

"Then can you take me along? Even stuffed in a suitcase."

Jiang Wenzhe's chest tightened. Twisted, warped, repressed obsessions crammed his chest, and a maddening fixation howled through his mind, nearly grinding his sanity to dust.

Lin Sangyu hugged his waist, anxiously breathing in his scent, and choked out, "I won't bother you."

"Why do you want to come on the business trip with me?" Jiang Wenzhe raised his hand slightly and pinched her earlobe—small and delicate. A nearly sinister smile tugged at his lips as he coaxed.

The words of impending separation filled Lin Sangyu's head entirely, her chest aching as if being torn. Fear and unease kept yanking at her. Before she could even think, she blurted out, "Because I don't want to be apart from you."

"Why don't you want to be apart from me?" Jiang Wenzhe's gaze darkened, and he pressed on, clearly bent on getting to the root of it.

Why didn't she want to be apart?

Lin Sangyu froze, her lips parting and closing dumbly. After a long moment, she finally answered, "I... I don't know. I just feel like I need to be by your side."

Jiang Wenzhe's fingers slid from her earlobe downward, and his long, slender hand settled gently on Lin Sangyu's fragile neck in a pose that mimicked a chokehold.

Lin Sangyu was forced to crane her neck and look up at him.

The cold white light of the emotionless fluorescent lamp made her face look deathly pale.

He could feel the pulse beneath her thin skin racing wildly—because of him.

Pathological attachment.

He had shaped it successfully.