Xu Xiliu steadied the man again, inwardly cursing the absurdity of the situation. What nonsense is this invalid, barely able to walk, trying to pull now?

Qin Li had gone silent, his head slightly bowed—whether from the blow to his pride or another slip into delirium was hard to say. Warm breaths ghosted against Xu Xiliu’s neck, making him uncomfortable enough to subtly tilt his head away. Still, he maintained his professionalism, choosing his words carefully as he softly asked again, “Where did you want to go, Mr. Qin? Are you still feeling unwell?”

The sedative had been meticulously calibrated to match Qin Li’s condition. Once absorbed, it should have calmed his mind and lulled him into sleep.

Yet here he was, wide awake.

Barring any environmental disturbances, the only explanations could be either physical discomfort or the sedative's diminishing efficacy from overuse—neither of which boded well.

Xu Xiliu pondered this as he waited for a response, but the man remained silent, leaning heavily against him, his breath becoming increasingly erratic and warm against Xu Xiliu’s skin. The sensation was maddening, and Xu Xiliu fought the urge to clamp a hand over his mouth.

Fortunately, the awkward stalemate didn’t last long.

Just as Xu Xiliu was about to repeat his question, Butler Zhong arrived.

“Master!”

Spotting the entangled figures by the door, the butler hurried over and immediately took Qin Li’s weight from Xu Xiliu.

“Why did you come out, sir? You only needed to call for me. In your condition, you should be resting…” Zhong fretted, then glanced at Xu Xiliu uncertainly. “Dr. Xu, has something happened?”

Xu Xiliu smiled politely. “No, I just left something in Mr. Qin’s room. When I came to retrieve it, I found him at the door and helped steady him.”

“I see…”

“Then please fetch your belongings yourself, Dr. Xu. I’m afraid I can’t assist you at the moment,” Zhong apologized, struggling to support the nearly 1.9-meter-tall man.

Xu Xiliu nodded and stepped inside. With the door wide open and the butler standing guard, there was no risk of suspicion.

He quickly found his phone on the table where he had left it and returned.

Meanwhile, the butler had guided Qin Li to a seat.

The man had fallen silent after his earlier bizarre outburst, but his lips were noticeably pale and chapped, his fingers clenching intermittently, as if trying to suppress pain. Without a proper examination and with the patient uncommunicative, Xu Xiliu could only speculate. Given Qin Li’s chronic conditions—migraines, mental instability, and gastric issues—the most likely culprit was the latter.

Especially since the butler had mentioned Qin Li’s refusal to eat earlier.

In other words, he was probably just hungry.

Pausing on his way out, Xu Xiliu mentioned to the butler, “If Mr. Qin hasn’t eaten today, prepare something easily digestible. It’s too late for a full meal—save that for tomorrow morning.”

He added, “Given his current condition… his diet will require extra attention.”

Even the most skilled doctor couldn’t do much for a patient who neglected their health.

The butler blinked, then nodded. “Understood. I’ll have the kitchen prepare something light immediately. Thank you for your trouble tonight, Dr. Xu. Please rest well.”

His tone held a hint of sincerity absent from their previous exchanges—a slight thawing of his usual guarded demeanor.

Xu Xiliu noticed but showed no reaction, merely nodding before leaving.

Exhausted, he collapsed into bed the moment he reached his room.

Noticing the gold-rimmed glasses on the nightstand, he realized he’d forgotten them in his earlier rush. Not that it mattered—he wasn’t nearsighted. He wore them solely to soften his striking features, ensuring patients focused on his professionalism rather than his appearance. Over time, it had become habit.

I wonder if the original owner had the same reason…

His thoughts meandered as sleep slowly claimed him.

Morning arrived with clear skies, the rain of the previous night having dissipated. The mountains, shrouded in a thin mist, appeared like a watercolor painting, their greenery vibrant in the sunlight that burned through the lingering clouds.

Yet in the villa’s study, heavy curtains barred the vibrant daylight.

“He came last night?”

The man’s voice was hoarse, thick with gloom.

“Yes. Dr. Xu left some instructions before departing this morning,” Zhong replied, arranging a tray of stomach-friendly dishes and medication beside Qin Li. “Please eat something, sir. And remember to take your pills afterward.”

Qin Li fell silent for a long moment before dismissing him with a terse, “Leave me.”

He preferred solitude.

The butler hesitated, concern flickering across his face, but he swallowed his usual admonishments and withdrew.

Alone, the gaunt man slumped in his chair, eyes half-lidded. His furrowed brow betrayed the exhaustion that clung to him, while an aura of restless irritation hung heavy in the air. Passing servants instinctively slowed their steps, wary of drawing his attention.

Awake now, Qin Li had reverted to his usual taciturn demeanor, a stark contrast to the delirium of the previous night. The doctor’s intervention had restored his clarity, albeit briefly.

That physician… he had some impression of him. The man always appeared during his episodes, stabilizing him before vanishing like a fox scavenging from a weakened tiger. Their relationship should have remained that simple—predator and opportunist, bound only until recovery or ruin severed the tie.

Yet last night, the doctor had inexplicably spoken words that didn’t belong between them.

What had he said?

The memory eluded him, but the fleeting emotion it stirred lingered—amusing in its absurdity.

Qin Li’s Bluetooth earpiece glowed as a subordinate delivered a concise report, well-versed in their employer’s temperament. The man responded sparingly, his occasional breaths sharp enough to unsettle the speaker.

Lately, his mind had become treacherous. Episodes of disorientation plagued him, the phantom voices escalating from murmurs to shrieks, rainstorms, and curses. At their worst, hallucinations overtook him, erasing all awareness of his actions.

This secluded villa, meant as a refuge, had become more of a prison. Its isolation ensured no one witnessed his unraveling. Since arriving, he hadn’t known a single day of true lucidity, his chest perpetually choked with self-loathing and contempt for the world. Each fleeting moment of clarity only forced him to confront his degradation anew.

He couldn’t decide which was more torturous—the madness or the respite.

Yet stubborn defiance flickered in the ruins of his pride. He refused to die as his enemies intended, festering in this gilded cage.

Amid the suffocating despair, he clawed for purchase, carving out slivers of agency where he could.

But sometimes, he wondered if the struggle was worth it.

How satisfying it would be to drag this wretched world down with him.

The study fell silent once more, the call ended. His network within the Qin conglomerate remained intact, his proxies holding his position despite the board’s attempts to erase him.

As his thoughts spiraled, the memories surged—triggers from last night’s episode, older wounds carved deep into his psyche. His breathing grew ragged, his vision tinged with red.

CRASH!

The glass beside him shattered against the wall before he registered throwing it.

Only when the fragments scattered across the floor did he realize the shadow lunging at him had been another phantom.

Gripping his head, Qin Li struggled to steady his breathing.

His phone rang, the timing impeccable. He ignored it.

It rang again. And again.

On the fourth attempt, he snatched it up with a snarl. “What?”

“Mr. Qin? How are you feeling today?”

The voice was warm and mellow, effortlessly pleasant.

On the other end, Xu Xiliu balanced the phone between his shoulder and ear as he poured hot water into his instant noodles. Having slept until afternoon after returning home, he’d settled into his new apartment—compact but comfortable, its minimalist style to his taste—before remembering his professional obligations.

Nothing beat waking naturally to a lazy day, the aroma of cheap noodles filling the air. Contentment curled through him as he smiled, his peach-blossom eyes crinkling.

To preserve this idyllic routine, of course, he’d check in on his benefactor.

Infusing his voice with extra gentleness, he coaxed, “Mr. Qin? Are you there?”

“Not dead yet,” came the icy reply, each word gritted out between clenched teeth.

A derisive snort followed.

So noisy.

How had he ever found this man soothing?

It must have been the hallucinations.

Xu Xiliu blinked at the harsh tone and the labored breathing faintly audible through the line. *Is he having another episode?

“Have you taken your medication, Mr. Qin? It’s crucial to follow the prescribed dosages—”

Qin Li’s focus wavered. The doctor’s prattle seeped in. With a contemptuous twist of his lips, he yanked open a drawer to reveal an array of pill bottles.

Gritting his teeth, he dumped assorted tablets into his palm and tossed them back dry, crushing them between his molars. The bitter powder coated his tongue, sharpening his awareness.

“Taken. Now shut up,” he spat.

The crisp crunch of pills through the receiver made Xu Xiliu wince. This man is brutal!

Wait—that wasn’t the point.

The earlier rattling had clearly been someone indiscriminately shaking out pills, followed by that disturbing mastication.

He doubted the man had even checked the dosages.

Xu Xiliu hesitated before venturing, “…Mr. Qin, you didn’t just swallow a random handful, did you?”

The answering scoff was all the confirmation he needed.

Xu Xiliu’s vision darkened.

God, those are medications, not candy!