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Ye Bingran suddenly opened his eyes, as if he were experiencing a hallucination. He found himself in darkness, yet countless bizarre phantoms danced before him.
The sudden wave of pain caught him off guard; each breath brought unbearable agony, as if countless ants were burrowing into his heart and lungs. At times, it felt like his heart was engulfed in flames, while at others, he was plunged into an icy abyss. Every muscle and drop of blood in his body violently rejected this sharp, bone-scraping sensation.
He bit down hard on his lip to stifle any sound, desperate to escape from Zheng Mengni's side. However, his numb legs made it nearly impossible to leave the bed. In a fit of madness, Ye Bingran rolled off the bed, every inch of his skin feeling as though it were being gnawed and torn apart by insects. He reached out to scratch and claw at himself but could never find the right spot.
Dragging his injured leg forward, he attempted to leave before Zheng Mengni woke up. Yet, she stirred awake the moment he fell from the bed, groggily crawling over to see what trouble he was causing this time—always restless even in sleep.
As she leaned over the edge of the bed, blinking her bleary eyes in an effort to focus, she saw Ye Bingran curled up on the floor, clutching his head. The room remained dark, and she failed to notice his body trembling violently. She assumed he had simply rolled off the bed while sleeping.
"Get up! Why are you sleeping on the floor?" Zheng Mengni thought to herself, unwilling to show kindness by picking him up again. His hands seemed fine; if he wanted to climb back up, he should be able to manage it. After all, who could be so careless as to roll off such a large bed? Zheng Mengni doubted anyone else could be as peculiar as him.
"Are you okay?" she asked hesitantly.
Ye Bingran ignored her, leaving Zheng Mengni feeling uncertain. Just as she stepped down from the bed, Ye Bingran suddenly convulsed violently and rolled over, blocking her only path of escape.
In the pitch-black room, Zheng Mengni had no time to react and tripped over him. Startled into silence, she landed on top of Ye Bingran.
"What did you trip me for?" she exclaimed weakly.
Ye Bingran was still recovering; his legs were injured and he had been starving for two months—he felt like nothing more than a skeleton. Though Zheng Mengni was thin herself, her weight crashing down on him could genuinely cause harm.
The more she thought about it, the more frightened she became. Struggling to get up, she quickly tried to deflect responsibility: "I came over to help you! You tripped me and I accidentally fell on you."
"If you get hurt, it has nothing to do with me," he replied.
In that moment of warmth against him, Ye Bingran suddenly felt less pain. An indescribable urge surged within him; he desperately wanted to pull Zheng Mengni closer.
Like a drowning person grasping a life-saving piece of driftwood, Ye Bingran held on tightly, unwilling to let go.
His body moved faster than his consciousness as he pulled Zheng Mengni, who had just managed to rise halfway, back into his embrace.
"Let go!"
Zheng Mengni was stunned. She could feel Ye Bingran's heart racing violently, each beat faster than the last, almost unnaturally so. He held her tightly, as if trying to meld her into his own body. The heat radiating from him seeped through the thin fabric, making her feel as though she might be burned alive.
He was hot and damp. It was as if he had just emerged from the water, his entire body soaked through.
"What are you doing? Let go of me!"
Zheng Mengni struggled uncomfortably; she could hardly breathe. It was so hot—had this fool gone mad? How dare he hold her like this? Did he really think of her as an older sister? How ridiculous.
Ye Bingran didn’t respond, biting his lip to swallow the painful groans that threatened to escape. The pain was inexplicable; until he understood the situation, he couldn’t let anyone know about his condition. This instinct had been honed from years of living on the edge between light and darkness. Weaknesses and vulnerabilities could never be easily exposed.
"Sister... my leg hurts... it hurts..."
Ye Bingran broke out in a cold sweat, forcing out a few words with difficulty.
Zheng Mengni rolled her eyes: "You’re too stupid to die."
She completely forgot her usual demeanor as a refined lady and threatened him fiercely: "If you don’t let go, I’ll crush you, do you believe me?"
Ye Bingran's voice was hoarse: "It hurts."
He was burning up, his body drenched in sweat.
Zheng Mengni felt a lingering fear and dared not move recklessly. She suppressed her disgust at the sticky wetness and pressed her body against Ye Bingran’s, whispering softly, "If you know it hurts, then let go of me so I can call a doctor, okay?"
Ye Bingran tightened his grip on her wrist, his breath barely a whisper: "I... I don’t want to trouble my family. Please help me up; if I lie down for a bit... I’ll be fine."
Zheng Mengni furrowed her brows. "Really?"
"Mm."
She got up and carried him back to bed. Ye Bingran felt weak, the pain overwhelming him, leaving him with no strength even to open his eyes.
After a long pause, Ye Bingran whispered, "From now on, I’ll sleep by myself. My leg isn’t healed yet, and it’s really inconvenient for two people to lie together."
Zheng Mengni felt wronged. "What do you mean? You fell off the bed and hurt your leg; how can you blame me? I didn’t push you!"
He replied weakly, "I was afraid of bumping into you."
"Ungrateful!"
Zheng Mengni was furious and hugged the pillow tightly. Her palms were still damp, covered in the sweat from Ye Bingran's back.
How annoying! How dare he hug her and get her dirty?
With a grim expression, she turned back and asked, "You... you really don’t want to see a doctor?"
She was genuinely afraid that something might happen to Ye Bingran and implicate her. After all, that fall had been quite severe.
Ye Bingran replied indifferently, "It’s too late. It’s not a bother; I’m not in pain anymore."
Zheng Mengni said nothing and stepped out.
Lying on the bed, Ye Bingran struggled to open his eyes in the darkness, confirming that Zheng Mengni had indeed left.
Only then did he bite down on his arm, the intense metallic taste of blood stimulating his nerves and violently releasing the accumulated pain.
He was in so much pain that he began to roll his eyes back.
In his hazy vision, there was still a glimmer of rationality left.
If he waited any longer, he would be exposed.
He had seen this kind of situation many times before.
It seemed like he was experiencing withdrawal symptoms.
But no matter which world he was in, he had never had a history of drug use.
There was only one possibility: someone had poisoned him during the two months he was unconscious.
If his speculation was correct, then he was currently without any medicine to treat it and could only find a way to detoxify himself.
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