NOVEL NEXT Chapter 426
Ji Nian stood in the shadows, her expression complicated as she quietly closed the door behind her.
She turned and headed toward Shen Qingtang's room, the path eerily unimpeded—strangely, not a single servant was present on this floor late at night.
Silently, she pushed open the door to Shen Qingtang's room.
A familiar fragrance drifted out, confirming her suspicions.
Tiptoeing inside, she made her way to the inner chamber and stood by the bed.
The curtains were left undrawn, allowing moonlight to spill across the sheets and illuminate Shen Qingtang's face.
It was the same face she knew, though thinner now, brows furrowed in distress, sweat beading on her forehead. She seemed trapped in a nightmare, her body tense with pain.
Ji Nian caught the scent of medicine clinging to her, along with the faint metallic tang of blood.
She's bleeding…
This was worse than she had imagined.
No wonder Gu Xiuyuan had been so furious. If it were her, she wouldn't have spared the one responsible for such suffering either.
For a long moment, Ji Nian simply watched her. Then, gently, she reached out and brushed her fingers against Shen Qingtang's cheek. "I'm sorry…"
The apology slipped out, though she wasn't entirely sure who it was meant for.
[If only my lab were here…]
She could have brewed a remedy to ease the pain.
The system crackled faintly in her mind.
It wanted to point out how ironic it was—she hadn't even considered making a potion to heal her own scars when she first saw her ruined face, yet now, at the sight of Shen Qingtang's suffering, the thought came so easily.
But it stayed silent.
Under Ji Nian's touch, the tension in Shen Qingtang's body gradually eased, her brow smoothing as the nightmare loosened its grip.
Noticing the faintest stir of wakefulness, Ji Nian quickly withdrew and slipped away.
After she left, Shen Qingtang's eyes fluttered open just a sliver, her voice drowsy and confused. "Who… was that?"
But sleep pulled her under again before she could resist.
Yet, just before consciousness faded completely, one thought lingered—
That hand… had been so warm.
...
After seeing Shen Qingtang, Ji Nian went in search of Ji Tingzhou.
Access to his floor required a keycard, leaving her no choice but to climb the exterior pipes and slip in through a window.
[Safe landing.]
She flashed a quick victory sign and straightened up.
Before she could even get her bearings, a ragged, agonized scream tore through the silence.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
The voice was raw with suffering, accompanied by the violent clanking of chains and the sound of something—or someone—thrashing against the walls.
Ji Nian's expression shifted as realization struck.
She braced for guards to come running at the noise, ready to leap back out the window if necessary.
But no one came. As if this were routine, the screams were left unanswered.
Her chest tightened.
Following the sound, she found its source in the room next to Ji Tingzhou's.
The door was slightly ajar. Pushing it open, she stepped inside.
A few soft lights illuminated the space—bright enough to see clearly, but not harsh. The room was sparse, every piece of furniture rounded, edges smoothed to prevent injury. Even the walls were specially padded.
And at the center—
A man, bound in heavy chains, writhed violently. His hair was unevenly shaved, his face flushed red from exertion. Between screams, he let out bursts of unsettling laughter.
This was nothing like the cheerful, towering figure from her memories.
Ji Nian barely recognized him.
"Wei Yang…"
Though lost to madness, his instincts remained sharp. The moment she entered, his bloodshot eyes snapped toward her, wild and uncomprehending.
"AHHHH!! AHH!! AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
He howled at her, laughter breaking through the screams.
Without thinking, she stepped closer, her vision adjusting to the dim light.
The once-broad frame was now gaunt, his face twisted, one eye larger than the other. Spittle dripped uncontrollably from his mouth. His skin, where visible beneath the tattered clothes, was a patchwork of scars—old and new, layered over each other.
Self-inflicted, every one.
The sight stole her breath. Her lips pressed into a thin line.
As Wei Yang's cries grew louder, Ji Nian moved closer still.
"Sleep, Wei Yang."
Ignoring the risk of his thrashing limbs, she knelt before him, recalling his once-booming voice: "Remember this, Ji Nian—those neck chops in movies are fake. But these two pressure points? Hit 'em right, and they'll knock a person out cold. Pretty cool, huh?"
Her fingers found the spots. In an instant, his body went slack, his head lolling forward as unconsciousness took him.
Gently, she touched the scars along his cheek, her eyes heavy with sorrow.
...
After seeing Wei Yang, Ji Nian wasn't sure if Ji Tingzhou would even be in his own room.
Remembering his long-standing insomnia, she turned toward the place he often went to drink.
Sure enough, she found him there.
The bar area was softly lit. Ji Nian hesitated at the threshold, but her gaze locked onto Ji Tingzhou immediately.
The sight of him made her throat ache.
Gone was the polished, arrogant man she knew. Instead, he sat slumped on the couch, his face hollow, complexion ashen. The corner of his mouth was stained—whether with blood or liquor, she couldn't tell. He looked lifeless.
This version of Ji Tingzhou seemed a decade older, his hair streaked with silver, carelessly unkempt.
Pain had stripped him of any vanity.
Logically, she knew this wasn't her father—might even despise her—but she couldn't help superimposing his image over the man she remembered.
Before she realized it, she was standing before him, tears blurring her vision.
Ji Tingzhou hadn't slept. The relentless headaches, the hallucinations that plagued him the moment he opened his eyes—alcohol did little to dull them.
The instant Ji Nian drew near, his eyes snapped open.
Her tear-filled, jade-green eyes met his.
A stranger's face should have startled him. But he didn't react. Didn't even move.
"Who are you now?"
His voice was rough from years of drinking, though the cadence was achingly familiar. His expression was pure disdain. "Killed too many to remember."
He studied the scarred girl before him, clearly uninterested in conversation, and closed his eyes again.
A moment later, a cough wracked his frame, fresh blood trickling from his lips.
Only then did Ji Nian realize—the stain hadn't been wine.
He was coughing up blood.
"Ji Tingzhou… how did you end up like this?"
Hearing his own name, he opened his eyes once more.
A scoff escaped him. Even his hallucinations were getting lazy—what kind of ghost delivered such half-hearted taunts? Pathetic, compared to the others.
He looked up with a mocking, scornful attitude.
But what he saw...
was the tear-streaked face of the clown, snot bubbling from their nose as they wept uncontrollably.