When Sang Yan saw the knife in Che Xingde's hand, he instantly understood the reason for his visit. Like a man ready to destroy both the jade and the stone, Che Xingde swung the knife with vicious force, slashing wildly without any semblance of reason.
In the process, he inadvertently cut Sang Yan's arm and waist.
Because of his actions, Sang Yan's lips pressed into a tight line, his features half-lit and half-shadowed in the dim light. As Che Xingde thrust the knife toward him again, Sang Yan swiftly grabbed his arm and twisted it hard.
A sharp crack sounded as the bone dislocated.
Che Xingde cried out in pain, his grip loosening as the knife clattered to the ground.
Blood still seeped from the wounds on Sang Yan's stomach and hand. The dark fabric of his clothes hid the deep crimson stains, but the gash on his hand was deep. The blood coiled around his arm like a serpent, staining the red string tied around his wrist before dripping steadily onto the floor.
"You're pretty lucky," Sang Yan said in a low voice, still gripping Che Xingde's dislocated arm and pinning him against the wall. "If something had really happened that year, this knife wouldn’t be on the ground today."
If Wen Yifan's uncle had come home any later that day.
If she had met the same fate as Guo Ling.
If she, too, had spent all those years alone in that endless darkness and cold.
At the thought, Sang Yan's grip tightened, listening to Che Xingde's screams with a fury that made him wish he could tear the man apart a thousand times over. His eyes darkened, veins bulging on his neck as bloodthirsty thoughts surged through his mind.
Then, in the next moment, he remembered what Wen Yifan had said to him not long ago.
—"If you get hurt, I'll treat your wounds, but I'll also be angry."
Sang Yan snapped back to reality, belatedly registering the pain. He glanced down at the blood on his body before dragging Che Xingde forward. "You sure know where to stab."
"..."
"How the hell am I supposed to hide a hand wound in this heat?"
Che Xingde had no strength left to resist, being dragged along like a sack. His words were slurred from pain as he began to plead again. "Brother... please, I don’t want to go to jail..."
"You don’t want to go to jail?" Sang Yan sneered. "That girl didn’t want to die either."
......
Noticing the commotion, passersby began to gather. Police officers patrolling nearby arrived just in time, and after assessing the situation, they escorted Che Xingde into a patrol car.
The officers offered to take Sang Yan to the hospital and record his statement.
Sang Yan cooperated but asked them to wait a moment. He returned to his car to retrieve his keys and phone but couldn’t find the latter after searching. His brow lifted slightly, but he didn’t dwell on it, turning instead to board the patrol car with the officers.
During the ride, the officers helped bandage his wounds while asking for details about the incident.
Blood still oozed from his injuries as Sang Yan pressed a hand to his stomach, answering calmly.
After a long while, as they neared the city hospital, one of the officers asked, "You and the suspect—"
Before he could finish, Sang Yan suddenly interrupted, "What time is it now?"
The officer checked. "Around 8:40. Why?"
Hearing the time, Sang Yan paused before asking, "Sorry, could I borrow your phone?"
At this hour, the roads in the Shang'an district were still congested.As time passed, Wen Yifan grew increasingly anxious. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, placed Sang Yan's phone and voice recorder back into her bag, and asked, "Driver, how much longer will this traffic jam last?"
The driver replied, "It'll clear up after this stretch."
Just as Wen Yifan was about to ask more, her phone suddenly rang. She looked down and pulled it out of her pocket.
The missed call was from an unfamiliar number in Nanwu.
Holding her breath, a guess flashed through her mind, and she immediately answered.
As she had expected.
Sang Yan's voice came through instantly: "Wen Shuangjiang."
Hearing his voice, the tension that had been gripping Wen Yifan finally eased. She pressed her lips together tightly and directly asked about his condition, her voice slightly nasal: "Are you okay? Where are you hurt?"
It was clear she already knew, so Sang Yan didn’t bother making excuses: "I'm fine, just a scratch on my hand."
Wen Yifan didn’t believe him at all and sniffled: "I saw a lot of blood."
"That was probably Che Xingde's. I’m completely fine," Sang Yan said lazily. "Alright, really, I’m fine. Wen Shuangjiang, go home by yourself today. I still need to give a statement, so I won’t be back soon."
Wen Yifan said softly, "I’ll come find you."
Hearing this, Sang Yan fell silent for a few seconds, as if sighing at his inability to hide it any longer: "Fine, then hail a cab. Come to the emergency department at the city hospital."
...
By the time Wen Yifan arrived at the emergency department, Sang Yan’s wounds had already been stitched up. The hospital wasn’t too crowded at the moment, and two police officers stood beside him, seemingly asking him questions.
She quickly walked up to Sang Yan, staring at the injury on his arm.
Sang Yan turned his head: "You got here pretty fast."
Wen Yifan’s expression remained blank as she greeted the two officers. The officers then said, "That should be all for now. If we have any further questions, we’ll contact you again."
Sang Yan nodded at them: "Alright, thanks for your hard work."
After the officers left.
Wen Yifan fixed her gaze back on Sang Yan. His face was paler than usual, and his naturally light lips were now completely devoid of color, giving him a somewhat sickly appearance. She lowered her eyes and said slowly, "Just a scratch."
"..."
"And then six stitches."
Sang Yan glanced up at her but didn’t bother defending himself further, patiently waiting for the anger and scolding she had mentioned earlier. Leaning back in his chair, the anesthesia in his hand hadn’t worn off yet, so he habitually reached out with his other hand to hold hers.
A moment of silence passed.
Instead of her anger, Sang Yan saw her eyes redden as tears began to fall, one after another.
"..." Sang Yan was stunned. "Wait, why are you crying before even scolding me?"
Wen Yifan sat beside him, trying to steady the tremor in her voice and calm herself. She wiped her tears again and asked, "Why did you go after him?"
Sang Yan found it amusing: "So I was wrong to do that?"
"After you saw him, you should’ve just called the police," Wen Yifan said stiffly. "You didn’t need to do anything extra."
Sang Yan replied patiently, "He would’ve run away."
"So what if he ran? What does it matter?" Wen Yifan finally lost her temper with him. "Even if he got away, it’s none of your business! Why do you have to play the hero?!"
Silence fell.After being scolded by her like this, Sang Yan wasn’t angry. He lowered his gaze to look at her. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t like you like this…” Wen Yifan kept her head down, her voice choked with sobs. “Can you please not get involved in these things? Don’t make me regret telling you, okay? Just go to work every day, come home safely, and meet me without any trouble…”
Wen Yifan truly didn’t care about anything else anymore.
Even if she loathed Che Xingde.
Even if she wished he would rot in prison for the rest of his life.
None of those thoughts could compare to even the slightest concern for Sang Yan.
—Silence.
“Where am I not safe?” After a few seconds, Sang Yan actually laughed, his tone slow and teasing. “You can cry right in front of me now. Before, you’d always hide.”
Wen Yifan remained in the same position, unmoving.
“Wen Shuangjiang, why aren’t you happy?” Sang Yan pinched her fingertips lightly. “Che Xingde was arrested, your aunt has paid the price, and that girl’s name has finally been cleared.”
“…”
“And,” Sang Yan continued slowly, “this time, I protected you.”
Hearing this, Wen Yifan immediately looked up at him, her eyes still red.
Their gazes met.
Frozen in place.
“I actually cared a lot—so much that it drove me crazy—that back then, when I said I wouldn’t bother you anymore, I really didn’t.” Sang Yan’s eyes were pitch-black, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. “What was the point of a grown man like me clinging to pride like that?”
Wen Yifan parted her lips.
Before she could speak, Sang Yan tugged at the corner of his mouth and added, “Such trivial things—why did I hold a grudge against you for so many years?”
Back then, they were young and impulsive.
When he loved someone, he could pour his heart out for her, lowering his pride again and again. Yet he could also be easily shattered by her words, stepping out of her world completely, cutting ties with ruthless finality.
He knew he couldn’t forget her.
He knew he was still waiting hopelessly.
But for the sake of dignity and pride, he refused to be the one to reach out first.
During those long two years.
He only knew that he was the one humbled in their relationship, never noticing the turmoil in her emotions, never catching the pain and despair she hid so carefully.
Never once trying to pull her out of it.
Wen Yifan murmured, “It was my fault to begin with.”
“What does it have to do with you?” Sang Yan raised his hand, gently brushing the corner of her eye. “It’s that scumbag Che Xingde’s fault.”
“…”
“Can’t you be happy for me?” Sang Yan smiled. “I got that bastard locked up.”
I was the one who caught the shadow haunting you.
From now on.
Your world will only have light—
As if she had finally processed his words, Wen Yifan took a long moment before she looked away. She stared at her own hands, her head still bowed, tears continuing to fall as if they would never stop.
Sang Yan leaned closer to watch her cry, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Wait, wasn’t I the one who got stitches? Why are you crying?”
Hearing this, Wen Yifan glanced at his arm again, and her tears fell even harder.
“…”
Sang Yan was terrible at comforting people, and he inexplicably felt like he was the one who had made her cry. He rubbed his temples, then carefully wiped her tears away. “Alright, alright, I’m not in pain at all, damn it.”
Wen Yifan sniffled.
Several more seconds passed.
Sang Yan stared at her reddened eyes, his voice soft, as if coaxing her faintly.
“Don’t cry.”
The emergency room was quiet.Wen Yifan wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, barely managing to stop crying.
Seeing this, Sang Yan finally relaxed, then suddenly remembered something: "Wen Shuangjiang, what's going on with you?"
She responded softly, "Hmm?"
Sang Yan: "Not asking me for an interview anymore? Weren't you covering this news?"
Wen Yifan glanced at him. "I'm not in the mood."
Sang Yan rested his arm on the back of her seat, tapping his fingers lightly against it as he leisurely brought up old grievances. "How come? Last time my place burned down, you were pretty happy to report on it."
"..." Wen Yifan looked at his wound again and muttered, "This is different."
Sang Yan chuckled to himself for a moment. "Alright, let's go home."
The two got up and left the department.
Holding his hand as they walked forward, Wen Yifan couldn't help but say, "Sang Yan."
"What?"
"You're so unlucky," Wen Yifan sighed. "Having to meet me in this lifetime."
Sang Yan turned his head. "How so?"
"You just keep running into bad things." At this, Wen Yifan thought for a moment. "Did you do something to wrong me in your past life? Like—"
"Like what?"
"Maybe in my past life, I stayed single until I was old and gray, and finally found an elderly man who took a liking to me. But on our wedding night, he eloped with you." Wen Yifan made a reasonable guess. "So in this life, I'm here to make you miserable."
Sang Yan fell silent for a few seconds before suddenly laughing. "Are you giving an example, or are you hinting at something?"
Wen Yifan looked up belatedly. "Huh?"
"Fine," Sang Yan took it as an example and raised an eyebrow. "Then I'll repay the debt. Be a little nicer to me in this lifetime."
"What debt?"
"Didn't I owe you a man?"
"..."
"In this life, I'll repay you with myself." Sang Yan lifted his eyelids and hooked his fingertip against her palm, as if tickling her. "Deal?"
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