Withdrawal 11

He kept talking, drunk and unsteady.

“You’re always like this… I should hate you. I should hate you more than anyone else.”

Yet even as he said he hated him, 顾重 still had his arm wrapped tightly around 沈望’s neck, rubbing against him like a restless, oversized dog. In the end, he bit down on Shen Wang’s collarbone—hard enough to sting, but not enough to break the skin.

No matter how Shen Wang pushed, he couldn’t get him off.

Gu Zhong’s voice was hoarse, broken into fragments right beside his ear. Shen Wang couldn’t make out most of it—only scattered words drifting through the haze.

He kept saying he hated him. That he regretted everything. And then, in the next breath, he forced Shen Wang to swear he would never be with anyone else.

Shen Wang was so disoriented he could only agree to everything.

Only then did Gu Zhong finally lift his face in his hands and smile.

His eyes were nearly shut with that smile, leaving only a row of white teeth visible—none of the earlier aggression or unreasonableness left behind.

Shen Wang felt like he was getting drunk just looking at him.

He thought Gu Zhong was going to kiss him, so he waited quietly, watching him.

But Gu Zhong only leaned in and kissed the mole on his cheekbone. Then, slurring softly, he murmured, “Good boy.”

That night, Shen Wang took care of him until morning.

Gu Zhong was sick from drinking—throwing up, clinging to him, refusing to let go. He rambled about things that had been stuck in his chest for years: how his old man looked down on his mother, how he would make something of himself just to force that man to regret it, and how lonely he had been in America, with no one by his side.

Shen Wang comforted him a few words, then asked, “What about Shen Wang?”

Gu Zhong stared at him for a long time.

“…A bastard,” he said at last.

Shen Wang couldn’t help laughing. He wasn’t even angry.

Gu Zhong watched him for a long while, then suddenly reached out and pinched his chin.

“Don’t laugh.”

“Why?”

Gu Zhong frowned. “It’s annoying…”

Shen Wang was still trying to tease him, but before long, Gu Zhong had already fallen asleep.

Shen Wang knew this side of him only appeared when he was drunk—clinging, fragile, stripped of all defenses.

As expected, the next morning Gu Zhong woke up cold and distant again, face unreadable, testing the waters.

“What happened last night?”

Shen Wang tilted his head. “Let me think…”

Gu Zhong drank his porridge silently.

Then Shen Wang said vaguely, “You hurt me pretty badly last night.”

Gu Zhong nearly choked, his face turning red instantly.

Shen Wang laughed while lighting a cigarette. Gu Zhong frowned hard, clearly annoyed.

“Do you always talk nonsense like this?”

Shen Wang tugged down his sweater and showed him the bite mark on his collarbone.

“See for yourself. You bit it. It really hurt. Shouldn’t you take responsibility?”

Gu Zhong gritted his teeth and refused to respond.

Shen Wang liked the way Gu Zhong’s eyes narrowed when he smiled. He liked the clean scent of his soap. He liked how clumsy he became when he was drunk. Even his stubbornness and bad temper—he liked all of it.

But twenty-four-year-old Shen Wang had no idea yet.

He liked Gu Zhong.

And he owed Gu Zhong far too much.

Chapter Six – Part Two

Gu Zhong returned to the country quietly.

He didn’t tell anyone. He came through the VIP passage, slipping past all reporters. Shen Wang only learned about it from a news photo of his appointment ceremony.

He was wearing a black suit—sharp brows, striking eyes, broad shoulders and a narrow waist. The media called him “the most handsome and youngest heir in history.” The comment section was filled with people jokingly calling him “husband,” with only a few mentioning Shen Wang in passing.

The Gu Zhong in Shen Wang’s memory had always been a T-shirt-and-jeans kind of boy. He rarely saw him dressed so formally.

It turned out he looked just as good in a suit.

Shen Wang saved only one photo from the news and set it as his wallpaper, like a quiet consolation. He didn’t dare disturb him.

All he could do was check at night whether the daisy avatar had changed.

Fortunately—it hadn’t.

He wanted to meet him in a better state.

Recently, Shen Wang had quit smoking and drinking, and started going to skincare clinics on time. But quitting was harder than he expected.

He developed severe withdrawal symptoms—insomnia, irritability, and an urge to scratch his own skin until his arms and legs were covered in red marks.

Every night before sleep, he stared at the ceiling until his eyes hurt, but he still couldn’t fall asleep. His body was exhausted, but his mind refused to quiet down.

He would think of the orphanage.

The cicadas outside the window never stopped screaming. The air was heavy and suffocating, and there wasn’t even a fan in the room.

Mei He would crawl onto his bed and ask why he wasn’t asleep yet.

He would quietly tell him that he had noticed the paper tiger on the wall had a missing ear.

Mei He would sigh helplessly and tuck his limbs back under the thin blanket, telling him not to cause trouble and to sleep properly.

But he still couldn’t sleep. He would obediently say “okay”… and lie there until dawn.

The paper tiger always smiled. But its smile looked tired.

Still, it would talk to him—tell him stories, keep him company. Little by little, he wouldn’t feel so bad anymore. It told him it was his only friend, a divine beast sent from heaven, and that it had to secretly be his companion.

So he told it secrets he had never told anyone else—like how he was allergic to bedsheets, how his skin broke out in itchy red rashes.

The paper tiger nodded like it understood, smiling foolishly.

Sometimes, Shen Wang felt like he himself was that paper tiger with the missing ear—always smiling no matter what.

All the flowers in Chunlan Courtyard had bloomed, and his allergies flared badly. He had the housekeeper remove all the plants in the yard.

But the rashes still appeared—especially on his chest, itchy and unbearable, yet impossible to scratch.

He had barely gone a month before he started missing the taste of alcohol again.

Coincidentally, Viki dragged him to a club again. Shen Wang refused several times, but Viki was unusually firm this time.

“You have to come tonight. Otherwise you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.”

In the end, Shen Wang still went.

There weren’t many people in the private room. Bottles of foreign liquor were already on the table, and just looking at them made his fingers itch.

Someone familiar greeted him warmly. “Xiao Shen, what do you want to drink? I’ll order it for you.”

“Just juice,” Shen Wang said.

Viki looked at him in surprise. “Did the sun rise from the west today?”

Shen Wang placed his coat neatly on the sofa.

“I’m allergic. I can’t drink.”

Viki nodded in understanding and didn’t ask further.

More unfamiliar faces arrived one after another. Casual conversation filled the room, nothing serious, just people sitting together idly, passing time.