Sober

"What?" Lin Sangyu couldn't believe her ears and stood rooted to the spot.

"I said, come here." Jiang Wenzhe's tone shifted, deeper, carrying a hint of authority that dared not be defied.

He was like a wildfire in the pitch-black night, and she was a moth long trapped in a cage, craving the blazing flames and searing heat.

Jiang Wenzhe extended his hand.

That seemed to be the light.

Everything around them fell silent. Lin Sangyu took heavy steps toward him, each moment stretched out as if in slow motion. Her body trembled, screaming at her to stop, to not go.

But her heart was full, her vision blurred, and all she could see was that hand reaching for her.

Her steps followed her heart. Lin Sangyu quickened her pace and placed her hand in his.

Jiang Wenzhe pulled her forward, catching her in an embrace, his broad palm resting on her slender back.

"Trembling this much?" There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

It was only then that Lin Sangyu realized her body was shaking uncontrollably. She felt as though she had been cruelly torn in two—one half burning with happiness, the other gripped by a premonition of terror.

The two forces clashed and surged within her, indulgence and sobriety, longing and fear, excitement and dread... all emotions twisted together, battering against her fragile frame, squeezing the last breath of air from her chest.

She was like a fish sinking into the deep sea, about to drown.

Lin Sangyu stayed silent, not knowing what was wrong with her, merely shrinking into his arms like a quail, trying to escape the tempest in her mind.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" His slender fingers ran through her silky black hair.

Lin Sangyu mumbled, "I don't know why, but I'm a little scared."

"Of me?"

Jiang Wenzhe pulled out a hand and, with a flick of displeasure, pressed the hallway light switch. The light blazed on, sharpening the contours of his face.

The brightness cast faint shadows under his deep-set eyes; his lips pressed into a thin line as his embrace tightened unconsciously. After a moment, he added, "Can you tell me why you're afraid of me?"

"I'm not afraid of you," Lin Sangyu choked out, desperate to change the subject, and lied, "I'm just scared you'll abandon me."

His brows relaxed instantly. He patted her back and said gently, "I won't leave you."

How could he ever leave her?

"Alright, let's go to sleep."

Lin Sangyu grabbed Jiang Wenzhe's hand eagerly, desperate to get to bed and fall asleep so her strange, conflicting emotions would fade.

Taking it as her clinging to him, Jiang Wenzhe softened his voice. "Okay, let's go sleep now."

Back in the room, Jiang Wenzhe had Lin Sangyu sit on the beige sofa. He then fetched a basin of warm water, dampened a towel in the mist, and cleaned the palms of her hands and knees that had scraped against the floor earlier.

When he lifted her nightgown, he saw that her fall had been worse than she'd let on. The skin wasn't broken, but two vivid bruises stood out starkly against her pale knees.

His fingertips touched the bruise, his brow furrowing. "Does it hurt?"

Lin Sangyu bent her leg and pressed the bruise herself; it was just a dull ache. She answered honestly, "It doesn't really hurt. It just looks nasty."

After finishing with the warm towel, Jiang Wenzhe sighed, a note of apology in his voice. "I'll go fetch some ointment. Don't move."

Lin Sangyu froze for a second. As he turned to leave, a pang of anxiety made her reach out instinctively, but he was too fast—she only caught the stir of air behind him. All she could do was watch his retreating back and the fading sound of his footsteps.

Alone in the vast bedroom, she drew her legs up onto the sofa, wrapping her arms around them, and buried her head between her knees, curling into herself.

The cold moonlight slanted in, pinning her shadow to the floor and chilling her exposed ankles.

Jiang Wenzhe had just reached the door with the ointment when he saw her like that.

Lin Sangyu's wounds were easy to inflict—like a blade slicing through skin, leaving a trail of blood.

But his own tearing apart seemed too quick; the moment a thin scab formed, he ripped it off at the root, carrying unhealed flesh with it, leaving wounds that festered.

But so what?

Isn't liking someone about holding them tightly in your grasp?

What had he done wrong?

At night, Jiang Wenzhe held Lin Sangyu tightly.

So tight that she woke up in the middle of a dream, pushing him away. "Jiang Wenzhe, I can't breathe."

He loosened his hold for a moment, then instinctively pulled her close again.

Their hearts beat together in resonance.

He repeated to himself, over and over:

This is good, this is good, this is good, this is good, this is good...

He wasn't wrong, he wasn't wrong, he wasn't wrong, he wasn't wrong, he wasn't wrong...

As if hypnotizing himself.

In the darkness, Lin Sangyu slowly opened her eyes.

She could clearly feel the muscles of Jiang Wenzhe, taut as a drawn bowstring, trembling. She wanted to say:

"Jiang Wenzhe, do you know you're scared?"

"Do you know that you look exactly like I did just now?"

But it was only a fleeting thought. In the end, she did nothing and said nothing.

She merely smiled softly.

*

It was Lin Sangyu's first time on a plane. From the thunderous roar at takeoff to the powerful thrust pressing her into the seat, to the boundless sea of clouds outside the window during the flight—everything had her buzzing with excitement.

"Jiang Wenzhe, it's so beautiful. It's like we're walking on clouds."

"Jiang Wenzhe, do you think I could ever fly faster than a plane?"

"Jiang Wenzhe, how much longer until we get there?"

But human energy has its limits. In the latter half of the long-haul flight, Lin Sangyu grew listless; the scenery no longer held her attention, and she fell asleep against Jiang Wenzhe's arm.

In her drowsy haze, she didn't know how much time had passed, but she felt him lift her off the plane and tuck her into a car.

Lin Sangyu yawned, blinking rapidly. "Are we there?"

Jiang Wenzhe was holding a thick stack of documents, flipping through them with a serious expression. He turned at the sound of her voice. "Almost. We're heading to the hotel, about ten minutes."

Lin Sangyu pressed her face against the window, curiously taking in the scenery. The streets were lined with low British brick buildings, the morning sun spilling across their quaint, weathered facades. The streets were quiet and sparsely populated.

She was so captivated she asked, "Why is it still daytime here? Shouldn't it be night?"

Jiang Wenzhe, mimicking a middle school geography teacher, used one hand as the sun and the other as the Earth, giving her a rough demonstration. "The Earth spins from west to east, so the sun can't light up the whole planet at once. The places in the east see the sun first, so their time is earlier. Beijing is in the east, so it's eight hours ahead of London."

Lin Sangyu stared blankly for a full minute, the knowledge skimming across her brain without leaving a trace. Then, with a completely puzzled expression, she said confidently, "I understand it all."

Jiang Wenzhe teased, "Oh, is that so? Then you're quite impressive."

"Well," Lin Sangyu, emboldened, played along, "I'm only moderately impressive. Not everyone can be like me."

Jiang Wenzhe shot her a helpless look, pinched the bridge of his nose, and went back to reviewing the partner's technical whitepaper.

The purpose of this trip was to finalize a joint R&D and rollout partnership with a top British autonomous driving tech company for an in-car AI large model. The task was heavy.

After arriving at the hotel, Jiang Wenzhe unpacked both their suitcases, arranged everything, took a brief nap, and then left for the partner's lab for an on-site inspection. Lin Sangyu stayed behind in the hotel to organize her photography equipment.

Once she was ready, she planned to head out to scout locations and find inspiration.

Foreign scenery was always a hit online; she had to seize this opportunity.

The moment she opened the door to their room, Lin Sangyu saw two burly white men in plain clothes standing outside. Their hulking frames, muscles straining at their shirts, and intimidating presence made them look like two towering walls.

When they saw her, they turned to her in perfect sync and stepped closer.

"Bang—" The door slammed shut so fast and hard that even the windows rattled.

Lin Sangyu was terrified by the sight. Her hands moved faster than her brain as she slammed the door shut without a second thought.

In the process, she might have hit one of the men—the one in black sunglasses—because she heard a pained yelp.

She pressed her back against the door, panting, her heart racing. With trembling fingers, she pulled out her phone and messaged Jiang Wenzhe:

[Jiang Wenzhe, there are two bad guys at the door. Come save me!!!]

[big cry jpg.]

[pitiful jpg.]

Two minutes later, two voice messages came from Jiang Wenzhe:

[They're not bad guys; they're bodyguards. Forgot to mention it. They'll take you wherever you want to go and can translate for you.]

[Be careful.]

Lin Sangyu was internally screaming. She furiously typed: [Ahhh, why didn't you say so earlier? I think I beat up one of the bodyguards. He seems seriously injured.]

Jiang Wenzhe stared at the message for a long time, skeptical of its accuracy. Lin Sangyu would probably need a hundred-meter dash to land even a decent hit on them.

He typed back nonchalantly: [It's fine. They can take a hit.]