GBT Chapter 93

Jiao Bai did as he was told, in a daze.

He lifted the blanket a bit on the side near the bed, and Qi Yi Liao sat over, lifting the hem of the young man’s hospital gown from behind.

A patch of white waist was revealed, with a small scar an inch above the tailbone.

A few months ago, that place had been a hideous, mangled bite wound, the deepest part of which faintly revealed bone.

Qi Yi Liao placed his hand on it, caressing the young man’s tailbone. “Does it hurt here today?”

The young man’s mouth was slightly open, snoring.

Qi Yi Liao’s expression momentarily stilled. He lowered his eyes to look at the white expanse under his fingers. “Good scars forget the pain, should I say you’re good, or not?”

“Good or not, you’re already like this.” Qi Yi Liao gazed at it for a moment, slowly leaning down. Just as his nose was about to touch the young man’s tailbone, he suddenly stopped and straightened up.

“Knock, knock.”

The nurse knocked on the door outside the ward, wanting to come in to change the IV drip.

Qi Yi Liao let her in. He slowly and methodically straightened his tie, let down the turned-up cuffs of his shirt, fastened his cufflinks, and strode out.

In the elevator, Qi Yi Liao lowered his eyes to look at his phone. Next to him was an elderly couple, whispering trivialities into each other’s ears, every move of theirs was so vivid. Their bodies were old, but their attitude towards life and towards each other was unrestrained and free.

Qi Yi Liao raised his head, looking at them through the elevator doors, his breath paused. In the next moment, a discordant surge of heat poured into his chest, scalding his heart in an instant, rushing into his blood vessels, making his limbs go numb.

The nurse changed the IV drip and left. The ward door was opened, and Qi Yi Liao returned the way he came.

His breathing was not as steady as before, a few strands of hair had fallen down on his forehead, his tie was loosened again, his eyes were lowered, and a sound of swallowing, difficult to decipher, rolled out of his throat, like a wild beast ready to strike at any moment.

There was no prey in the ward, only a weak patient.

The atmosphere was not dangerous at all.

Even the floating dust in this space was peaceful.

The beast, with its barely concealed aura of aggression, walked over step by step, and then—

—lifted the patient’s hospital gown.

The young man was very weak and slept soundly. He did not know that the person lifting his hospital gown was acting for the second time.

The last time, there had been pauses and withdrawals. This time, however, Qi Yi Liao pinched his waist and leaned closer, his high, straight nose lightly touching his spine.

That nose moved down, pressing against his tailbone, which had old wounds and had suffered repeatedly, rubbed against it, and then moved half an inch away.

Warm breaths brushed against it, one after another.

His nose was still barely touching him.

As if smelling the scent of his skin, smelling the blood in his veins, smelling his vitality.

“Restraint,” a trembling voice said.

Then,

a kiss fell.