He almost asked: Has Qing Yi been mistreating you?
"Got it." The drunkard responded briefly and quickly shut the door.
The moment the door closed, he let out a sigh of relief, his highly strained nerves relaxing, and with that relaxation came utter exhaustion.
He leaned his entire back against the door, slightly tilting his head, looking at the dim room as his mind gradually ceased to function, just standing there quietly.
The room fell into an extreme silence, so quiet he could distinctly feel his own breathing, a silence he disliked from the bottom of his heart because it made him feel abandoned by the whole world.
Bewilderment, fear, emptiness, loneliness, various negative emotions drilled into his heart, magnifying and spreading his inner despair and helplessness across his chest, almost suffocating him.
He lifted his head from the door, then fiercely slammed his head back against it.
A dull "thud" made even his heart skip a beat.
Pain spread from the back of his head, accompanied by strong dizziness, as if suffering from a concussion, feeling like his skull and soul were separating.
He didn’t know what he was doing, only aware that his heart was on the brink of bursting from piled-up despair, making him wish he could cut open his chest, dig out his heart and take the despair with it. New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on novel[f]ire.net
Suddenly, he longed for Qing Yi, really longed, never felt this way before, never so urgently wanted to see him, almost like a tantrum throwing child.
Eagerly, he pulled out his phone from his pocket, unlocked it, opened his contacts, quickly found Qing Yi’s number, and dialed without hesitation.
For some reason, though usually it only rang twice before connecting, this time the call would not connect.
Though it was normal waiting time, to the drunkard, it felt as endless and maddening as the darkness in the room, driving him crazy with fear, even agitating him.
Only when Qing Yi’s gentle and pleasant voice came through the phone, did he instantly feel soothed, calming down immediately.
Leaning against the door, holding the phone in one hand and the bag of medicine in the other, he smiled the moment he heard Qing Yi’s voice.
Like a child lost who finally found his way home.
Tears welled up alongside.
"Drunkard? Are you listening?" Not receiving a response, Qing Yi raised his voice, calling out again.
"Yeah." The drunkard responded from his throat, only then realizing his throat felt dry and choked, like something was stuck there.
"Did you call for something? I was driving, so it took a bit to answer." Qing Yi explained.
The drunkard moved the phone away from himself, took several deep breaths, finally relieving the discomfort in his throat, then brought the phone back to his ear, saying: "No, just wanted to ask when you’ll be back?"
"Hmm... about twenty minutes or so, I’m on the road. What’s up? Is something wrong?"
"No, just asking. Be careful on the road."
"..." Qing Yi was momentarily stunned, a bit surprised.
The drunkard rarely called him, especially without any particular reason, just to ask when he’d be back.
That had never happened before.
Even with the drunkard’s recent change in temperament, he wouldn’t call without purpose.