Ji Nian jolted awake to the sound of rain and sat up abruptly.
Shen Qingtang, lying beside her, drowsily opened her eyes. "...Ji Nian?"
"Are you feeling unwell?"
She pulled her arm out from under the blanket and pressed her warm palm against Ji Nian’s stomach.
Ji Nian instinctively covered Shen Qingtang’s hand with her own.
"No, I’m fine."
She glanced toward the window, but the curtains were drawn tightly, not a sliver of light seeping through. Only the faint, steady patter of rain falling into the pond outside could be heard.
"Go back to sleep, I’m okay."
Ji Nian nestled back under the covers, nuzzling her cheek against Shen Qingtang’s, who was struggling to keep her eyes open.
Their soft cheeks pressed together, and once Shen Qingtang confirmed Ji Nian wasn’t in physical discomfort, she quickly drifted back to sleep.
Only Ji Nian remained restless. She fumbled for her phone on the nightstand and checked the time.
It was still early—not even dawn yet.
Ji Tingzhou hadn’t replied to her message. It wasn’t even marked as read.
Zhiliao and Wei Yang didn’t seem to know what exactly had happened to Ji Tingzhou either. Though they didn’t voice it, they were undoubtedly worried.
They were used to this pattern.
But Ji Nian wasn’t.
Ever since Lu Jinghuai told her that Ji Tingzhou had been seeing a doctor, she’d been consumed by an urge.
At this hour, if he was suffering from insomnia, was he still awake? If his mental state was deteriorating, she didn’t even know what exactly was wrong.
The more she thought about it, the more awake she became. Sleep was impossible now.
Carefully, so as not to disturb Shen Qingtang, she slipped out of bed, tucked the blankets around her, and grabbed her phone before heading toward the walk-in closet.
Moving like a thief, she changed out of her pajamas. Remembering the rain outside, she pulled on a jacket over her T-shirt—it was bound to be chilly.
Things were different now. She had to take care of herself.
To keep her thoughts from spiraling, she mused as she quietly shut the bedroom door behind her: she had an idea for a new creation.
A toxin that could simulate the immersive experience of menstrual cramps—complete with headaches, nausea, stomach pain, backaches, diarrhea, chills, and weak legs.
And for men? Double the effect.
She already had the slogan ready: Want to punish your unsympathetic boyfriend or husband? Want to retaliate against misogynistic trash?
Toxin 0998, at your service.
Ji Nian smirked as she tiptoed out of the house.
Ji Tingzhou would definitely be intrigued.
He never admitted it, but he was fascinated by the things she made. For his thirtieth birthday, she’d prepared a special toxin collection for him—a finely carved wooden box holding thumb-sized vials, each containing liquids of different colors. They looked ethereal, but any one of them could deliver horrifying effects.
Ji Tingzhou adored it. He often carried one around, idly rolling it between his fingers.
Sometimes, it made Ji Nian nervous—what if he accidentally dropped it?
At the thought, she sighed.
Zhiliao and Wei Yang appeared at the door, already fully dressed. Ji Nian blinked at them in surprise.
"Remember to come back for breakfast," Zhiliao said, adjusting her jacket before swiftly gathering her messy hair into a ponytail.
Wei Yang smiled and opened an umbrella. "Let’s go."
Ji Nian’s eyes sparkled with sudden mischief.
"Let’s move out."
Time to drag a certain stubborn man back home.
...
When Ji Nian arrived, the situation was worse than she’d imagined.
Her wet shoes squeaked against the polished marble floor as the toe of her shoe nudged a shard of broken vase.
The brightly lit interior was in complete disarray—not a single spot untouched by destruction, even traces of blood staining the scene.
For a moment, Ji Nian thought she’d walked into a crime scene.
Recognizing the danger, Wei Yang’s jaw tensed, his body shielding Ji Nian as he remained on high alert.
Ji Nian’s gaze lingered on a streak of blood smeared across the wall before she headed upstairs.
She nearly collided with someone but sidestepped just in time.
The man behind the glasses studied her face, his eyes flickering with recognition.
So similar… uncannily so.
"Miss Ji?"
Before he could look further, Wei Yang’s massive frame blocked his view.
Ji Nian peeked out from behind Wei Yang, scrutinizing the stranger in Ji Tingzhou’s home.
He was pleasant-looking—well-proportioned features, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, a faint smile on his lips.
"Dr. Yu."
Without hesitation, Ji Nian identified him.
"Did Mr. Ji mention me to you?"
"No. I found out on my own."
"Dad never tells me anything."
She patted Wei Yang’s arm, signaling it was fine.
At the same time, she was puzzled.
[Wei Yang doesn’t even know Yu Miao?]
Yu Miao’s expression shifted slightly at her words.
Meeting the fourteen-year-old’s scrutinizing gaze head-on, he smiled.
"Mr. Ji is asleep after a sedative. It’ll be a while before he wakes. Why don’t we sit and talk?"
Ji Nian gestured. "After you."
Downstairs was practically uninhabitable, but the house was large enough to have intact spaces. Ji Nian sat across from Yu Miao.
She expected some verbal sparring, but Yu Miao cut straight to the point:
"Mr. Ji has been experiencing hallucinations since the Ji Xi incident."
"Over time, the hallucinations have been accompanied by headaches."
"I’ve conducted thorough examinations—there’s nothing physically wrong. The pain isn’t physical; it’s phantom pain."
"The chronic pain has led to increased irritability and aggressive tendencies toward living beings."
"I’ve been trying to treat him, but progress has been minimal."
"That’s everything I know."
His straightforwardness was almost disorienting.
But Ji Nian’s mind was too occupied by his words to dwell on his sudden candor.
Even Wei Yang’s fists were clenched tight.
He knew Ji Tingzhou was struggling—but not to this extent.
Before leaving, Ji Tingzhou had given Wei Yang strict orders not to look for him.
Of course, this didn’t count.
He wasn’t searching for Ji Tingzhou—he was here to protect Ji Nian.
...
Upstairs, standing beside Ji Tingzhou’s bed,
Ji Nian’s anger dissipated the moment she saw him—unconscious, covered in bruises and cuts, eyes shut.
"How long will the sedative last?"
"If I took a dump on this bed right now, would he even wake up?"
