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墨書 Inktalez
Last month, he indeed went on a business trip to a neighboring city.
When he returned, I noticed a new scar on his arm that hadn't fully healed yet.
Xinchuan explained to me at the time that he had accidentally scratched himself while helping to move things.
As I complained about why he hadn't told me over the phone, I rummaged through drawers to find him some scar cream.
Even though I recalled this incident, I still felt skeptical about Xinchuan's words.
I didn't remember him having that shirt, and the large bloodstains on it were truly alarming.
It seemed Xinchuan noticed my doubts and took out the bloodied shirt from the box, flipping it over and handing it to me. "Look, the cut from when I got scratched is right here."
I looked up and saw that there was indeed a cut where Xinchuan was pointing, located at the sleeve, perfectly matching the wound on his arm, but it didn’t look very deep.
When I found this shirt at home earlier, I had been so frightened that I hadn’t dared to examine it closely and hadn’t noticed this tear.
However, I still couldn't bring myself to believe Xinchuan's explanation.
"This shirt is in such bad shape; why haven't you thrown it away?"
"You always tell me to be frugal in life," he replied with a playful smile, his tone like a child seeking praise. "I thought this hole isn't too big; a little patching would do. Even though it's stained, maybe after washing it, it could still be worn."
"Is that so?"
From Xinchuan's explanation, I couldn't find any opportunity to refute him.
However, his seemingly coherent explanations were full of holes in my eyes.
Over the years, having spent day and night with Xinchuan, there were times when I felt I understood him better than he understood himself.
How could someone like him, who must immediately buy a new shirt if he gets even a small oil stain on his clothes, possibly tolerate wearing a shirt that was stained with blood and had holes in it?
I knew he was lying to me again.
Even though I had already guessed that Xinchuan was not telling the truth about the shirt, I didn't confront him right away.
I set the shirt aside and pointed to the last remaining item in the box—
The empty white pill bottle.
"What is this?" I asked.
"I searched for this medicine for several days; it turns out you had put it away," he replied.
It seemed that Xinchuan hadn't noticed the pill bottle hidden under the shirt earlier.
After my reminder, he picked up the bottle from the box and examined it, looking relieved.
But when he realized the bottle was empty, his expression turned tense as he furrowed his brow. "Anan, where did the medicine go?"
"I ate it," I said deliberately.
Upon hearing this, the person who had just been amiable suddenly turned serious. "Anan, stop messing around. Tell me, where did the medicine go?"
"Why are you so anxious?" I looked at him coldly. "You brought this medicine, didn't you intend for me to take it?"
"Anan, you..."
Xinchuan hesitated, his stiff expression betraying his current panic.
Calmly, I tapped the water cup beside me. "Did you think I wouldn't notice when you put the medicine in my water?"
"Anan, you must be misunderstanding me."
Perhaps it was my tone or a fleeting expression that made Xinchuan sensitive to my thoughts. He glanced at the blood-stained shirt nearby and finally realized why I was making such a fuss today.
"Listen to me, it's not as complicated as you think."
"Am I not listening to your explanation right now?"
"This is a sleep aid. You said you've been having trouble sleeping lately, so I bought it for you. I know you don't like taking medicine, so I added it to your water without telling you." Xinchuan explained.
I countered, "Then why were you so nervous when I said I had taken the medicine?"
"Medicine can be harmful. You don't even know the dosage and just took it randomly; how could I not worry?" Xinchuan frowned. "Anan, I understand you're upset with me, but please tell me—did you really take the medicine?"
Looking at Xinchuan's worried expression, I couldn't help but feel he was being hypocritical.
If I had truly taken those pills, how could I possibly be sitting here questioning him in good health?
He should know this better than anyone, yet he still pretended to care about me.
I felt a knot in my chest and turned my head to take a sip of the red wine.
It was tasteless.
"No, I accidentally tossed the pills into the washing machine, and everything inside melted. I threw it away."
I didn't want to continue this meaningless game of probing; I decided to speak plainly.
As soon as I said that, I noticed Xinchuan's tense expression relaxed a bit, as if he finally felt relieved.
What a performance.
I thought to myself.
I didn't give him another chance to showcase his acting skills and changed the subject—
"I met Zhang Yunxin today."
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