Chapter 35: Chapter 35: I’ll Lose Control If I Don’t Take My dicine Chapter 35: Chapter 35: I’ll Lose Control If I Don’t Take My dicine The bedroom was in complete disarray, with every breakable object shattered.
Mo Chen leaned against the door, lighting a cigarette that he placed between his lips, the irritability in his heart not subsiding from smashing things, but intensifying instead.
A gloomy sense of decadence enveloped his handso features, making him seem as if he had erged from hell itself.
…
Qiao Ruoxin stood silently outside the door for a while, then she went back to her room and ca out with a guitar.
She sat on the carpet with her back against the door, her gaze faintly sweeping over the rain outside the window.
She lowered her eyes, her slender fingers plucked the guitar strings, and the prelude began to play slowly…
It was Jay Chou’s “Sunny Day”.
A smile curved Qiao Ruoxin’s lips, and her clean, sweet voice sang, “The little yellow flowers of the story have been drifting since the year of my birth, the childhood swings swing with the mories until now…”
Mixed with the sound of the rain outside, everything felt so comfortable.
…
Behind the door.
Mo Chen smoked one cigarette after another. The mont he heard the sound of the guitar, the rotten wounds on his heart began to tighten slowly.
It was not until he heard Little Ghost’s voice, tender, sweet, clean, with a hint of frailty.
The chaotic ss of the bedroom, like a barren land where no grass grows, seed to regain vitality upon hearing her voice.
The boiling irritability within Mo Chen gradually cald.
The haze of smoke blurred his cold, handso features.
Separated by a door, their thoughts flew chaotically.
The sound of the rain outside the window was crisp and pleasant. After Qiao Ruoxin played the last note, the whole world seed to fall into silence.
Only the sound of the rain continued.
Through the door, he heard Qiao Ruoxin say, “Brother Mo Chen, go to sleep, good night.”
He responded indifferently, “Hmm…”
…
Qiao Ruoxin leaned against the door, holding the guitar.
Her gaze fell on her left wrist, where a fine scar was barely visible unless looked at closely.
She closed her eyes, and the image of her in the bathroom, writing ‘Mo Chen’ on the wall with fresh blood, surfaced in her mind.
Blood dripping, despairing and helpless…
Tears slowly fell from her cheeks, hitting the guitar strings.
The next day, early morning.
At seven o’clock, Qiao Ruoxin got up, freshened up, and changed her clothes.
She stood outside Mo Chen’s bedroom door, waiting for him to co out.
After a full half-hour, the bedroom door finally opened, revealing the man’s tall figure, dressed to the nines.
Qiao Ruoxin glanced behind him; the bedroom was a ss, a pitiful sight to behold.
It seed that the man had another sleepless night, which is why he looked so full of nace now.
Mo Chen frowned, closed the bedroom door, and said in a deep voice, “Waiting for ?”
She smiled slightly, “Yeah, what do you want to eat? I’ll make breakfast for you.”
The man stared at her intently for a while before saying, “Anything’s fine.”
Qiao Ruoxin looked at his handso face, with a band-aid still on his forehead, and said, “I’ll help you take off the band-aid later. Keeping it on too long will suffocate the skin.”
“Hmm.”
“Brother Mo Chen, stop taking those pills, okay?” She always felt those pills made Mo Chen increasingly irritable.
Mo Chen’s brow furrowed, his face grim, his tone harsh, “Without the pills, I’ll lose control.”
“You won’t, trust , okay?”
“…”
It seed he had developed a dependency on the dication; the more irritable he beca, the more he wanted to take the pills, and the more pills he took, the more irritable he beca, a vicious cycle.
“Don’t regret it. I can’t control myself at all. I might even hit a woman,” his voice was calm yet indifferent.
Qiao Ruoxin suddenly laughed, “I know you won’t.”
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