Chapter 58: The Darkness Before Dawn VI

He Zheyu looked at the shattered Mo Qinghan, a dull ache throbbing in his chest. He knew that Mo Qingyu’s death had turned the grayness of Mo Qinghan’s world into utter darkness. After several attempts, his lips finally formed three faint words: “I’m sorry.”

Hearing him, a glint of coldness flashed in Mo Qinghan’s eyes. For the first time, she gazed at He Zheyu with such an expression. After a few icy, hollow laughs, her pale lips parted. “Do you think that with just those three words, you can erase the fact that Qingyu was driven to her death by Zhao Yiya? Or do you believe those three words from you, He Zheyu, are all we’re worth?”

When she finished, the two in the room locked their ink-dark eyes on each other, the silence so deep they could hear one another’s heartbeats. It was He Zheyu who broke it first.

“Mo Qinghan, I have only one request for you: you are not allowed to seek death. Leave the rest to me,” He Zheyu commanded.

Since Mo Qingyu’s death, Mo Qinghan had lain unconscious in bed for two days. Coupled with her miscarriage, her body was so frail that she could barely stand for a moment without faltering. Seeing her swaying unsteadily beside him, He Zheyu immediately swept her into his arms and laid her back on the hospital bed. He reheated the soup and poured it into a bowl. When he brought the spoon to her lips, Mo Qinghan turned her head away, biting her lips tightly shut, refusing to open her mouth no matter what He Zheyu said.

He Zheyu took a mouthful of the soup himself and set the bowl on the nightstand. Leaning in close, he pressed his lips to Mo Qinghan’s. She struggled with all her might, pushing at him. He gripped her flailing hands, restraining her. Still, she clamped her lips shut. His grasp tightened on her arms, pressing painfully into her skin. When she finally gasped out in pain, opening her mouth just a fraction, He Zheyu seized the moment and forced the soup into her mouth.

Resentment already burned in Mo Qinghan’s heart; now, forced in such a manner, she bit down fiercely on He Zheyu’s lip. The pain made him frown, but he endured it, loosening his grip just a little. The taste of blood mingled in their mouths, spreading into every corner.

Only when Mo Qinghan finally released his lip did He Zheyu straighten up. Seeing blood still trickling from his injured mouth, he softened a little. “If you try to force me again, I’ll still bite you,” she muttered.

He Zheyu wiped away the blood on her lips with his thumb, then reached for the bowl of soup. Taking another mouthful, he fed her as before. This time, Mo Qinghan did not resist as fiercely; her bite on his lip grew weaker and weaker. When he finally poured the rest of the soup into her mouth, He Zheyu’s lips curled into a sweet smile. “In the end, you still can’t bear to hurt me, can you?”

Mo Qinghan said nothing, quietly accepting this strange way of being fed until all the soup was gone.

“I don’t mind feeding you like this every day. At worst, it’s just a little more effort for me—chewing a few more times,” He Zheyu teased.

Mo Qinghan replied, weakly, “He Zheyu, could you be any more disgusting?”