Disobedience To Control chapter 49

Hiding the Beauty in the Golden Chamber

On the third day back in the ward, Yang Xiaobei’s tubes were removed one by one. After the morning check-up, the doctor saw that his incision was healing well and asked him to start walking as soon as possible to prevent adhesions.

But Yang Xiaobei was tall and sturdy. Even though he had lost quite a bit of weight due to the surgery, it was still a bit difficult for a single nurse to support him. Eventually, this task fell on Song Siheng.

Yet, Yang Xiaobei, taking advantage of his victim status, had no qualms about bossing Song Siheng around. Initially, he looked at him with lowered eyes and obediently asked for help, but later, he became more demanding: “Come over here, help me up.”

Song Siheng, with his rare good temperament, walked over to his bedside, lifted his arm to support him, and then helped him into the adjacent bathroom.

Long hours of bed rest had stiffened Yang Xiaobei’s body, and that day, the painkillers had just worn off. Although he was strapped with a fixed chest brace, any large movement inevitably strained his wound.

As soon as he took a few steps, he began to gasp for air, his brows furrowed, teeth clenched, unable to move an inch.

“Is it painful?” Song Siheng asked in return.

Yang Xiaobei took a deep breath before replying, “Ge, I got stabbed in the chest. It’s not like I got bitten by a mosquito.”

As he spoke, he winced again, “It’s unbearable. My skin hurts, my muscles ache, my bones ache, there’s not a single comfortable spot.”

Song Siheng took a deep breath and lifted him up, “Let’s go, young master.”

The door to the bathroom was pushed open, and Yang Xiaobei leaned boldly against Song Siheng’s shoulder and swiftly pulled down his pants.

Song Siheng clicked his tongue and looked away.

“What’s wrong? Haven’t you seen it countless times before?” Yang Xiaobei, though weak, still had the heart of a rogue.

“Hurry up, if you need to go, go quickly,” Song Siheng urged.

“Hey, who rushes someone for this? The more you rush me, the harder it is for me to go,” Yang Xiaobei hung on him like a soft bone, with no movement in front of his eyes.

Song Siheng felt more tired carrying him on his shoulder than doing deadlifts in the gym.

It wasn’t until two minutes later, after the sound of trickling water had ceased, that Yang Xiaobei sighed satisfactorily, “Okay, Xiao Song, take me back.”

Song Siheng gave him a glare but ultimately had to comply, carefully carrying him back to the hospital bed.

Soon, a whole week had passed since Yang Xiaobei’s surgery. Apart from occasional irregular heart rates, his various blood indicators were basically normal. The doctor didn’t keep him any longer and quickly gave him a discharge order, instructing him to return to the hospital in half a month to have the stitches removed and to wear a fixed chest belt for at least three months. Although Yang Xiaobei’s mobility was limited, he had spent nearly half a month in the hospital and was itching to leave.

As soon as the doctor finished speaking, Song Siheng arrived at the ward.

“Ready to be discharged?” Song Siheng asked, seeing that he had already changed into casual clothes with the help of a nurse.

“Yeah.” Yang Xiaobei couldn’t bend over well, so he could only straighten his upper body and slowly tidy up his clothes with his head down. Song Siheng stood behind him, looking at his back. After just a few days in the hospital, the T-shirt that had originally fit him seemed a bit loose. When he raised his arms slightly, he clearly felt that his arm circumference had decreased.

As if he could read minds, Yang Xiaobei turned to look at him and said, “What, feeling sorry for me?”

With that remark, any trace of sympathy in Song Siheng’s heart dissipated instantly.

He casually asked, “Where are you going to stay?”

Yang Xiaobei zipped up his backpack and said, “Where else can I go? Back to the rental house.”

Song Siheng furrowed his brows slightly. “You shouldn’t go back to that rental house. It’s not safe.”

“Then I’ll go back to the dorm.”

“You, in your current condition, going back to the dorm? Can you even climb to the top bunk?”

Yang Xiaobei sniffed, his dark eyes looking pitiful, “It’s okay, ge. I can take care of myself. I’ll just have my teammates lift me up every day, it’s not troublesome at all, really.”

Song Siheng looked at him as if he were looking at a fox, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Come stay at my place, okay?”

Yang Xiaobei put down his backpack with a slap and smiled innocently, “As you wish, this time you’re inviting me.”

In late March, cherry blossoms blossomed all over Jiangcheng.

The pink petals fluttered all the way, and Yang Xiaobei sat in the passenger seat of Song Siheng’s car, watching the cherry blossom trees fly by outside the window. Spring arrived earlier in Jiangcheng than in other cities, and the temperature rose faster too. Seeing that Yang Xiaobei was wearing the thick coat he had brought him when he was admitted to the hospital, Song Siheng silently reached out and turned on the car’s air conditioning.

The wound hadn’t healed yet, so he shouldn’t sweat easily.

“Where are we going?” Yang Xiaobei realized they weren’t heading to the suburban villa.

“My place,” Song Siheng said without elaborating, stepping on the accelerator and driving straight ahead.

After passing three intersections and turning west, a large area of ​​urban green space appeared in front of them, followed by a row of brand-new apartment buildings standing tall.

With their sleek carbon gray exteriors and oversized window walls, Yang Xiaobei could tell at a glance that this neighborhood was not cheap.

The car entered the spacious and bright underground parking lot.

Song Siheng parked the car and said to the person in the passenger seat, “Get out.”

Yang Xiaobei unfastened his seatbelt, but struggled to get up for a moment, clutching his chest in pain.

Song Siheng walked around to the passenger side, opened the door from the outside, and reached out, “Come on.”

Yang Xiaobei held his warm hand and managed to get out of the car with his help.

Two minutes later, the elevator door opened. Yang Xiaobei followed Song Siheng out of the elevator.

Song Siheng unlocked the door, and the two entered the apartment, the interior lights coming on as they stepped inside.

Yang Xiaobei stepped into the entrance and looked around, then turned to Song Siheng, “You were really wary of me, huh? You didn’t even bring me to such a nice place.”

“Yeah, I was wary of you,” Song Siheng didn’t mince words, “and look, you’ve been lying to me for months.”

The implication was clear: both were deceivers, both were wary of each other, and neither had explicitly accused the other.

Yang Xiaobei scoffed at his words and didn’t explain further. He just opened the cabinet in the entrance, intending to find himself a pair of slippers, but found a very familiar glove lying on the top shelf. It was gray, with a white sheep embroidered on it.

Shaking his head, Yang Xiaobei looked at Song Siheng somewhat triumphantly, “Hmm, it seems you still care about me.”

Song Siheng noticed what he was holding, “Don’t throw any junk in my car next time.”

With that, he snatched the glove from Yang Xiaobei’s hand, put it back in the drawer, and closed it with a snap.

Once inside the apartment, Yang Xiaobei began to look around. A square and spacious living room was adjacent to a study. The other rooms were yet to be discovered.

Yang Xiaobei put down his backpack, found a comfortable sitting position on the sofa, and slowly leaned back, “Hey, where am I going to sleep tonight?”

Song Siheng pushed open the door to the master bedroom, and Yang Xiaobei followed him in. However, he was stopped at the door, “You’re not sleeping here.”

“No, why are you still treating me like a stranger?”

Song Siheng patted his chest brace, “I’m afraid of pressing on your bones.”

With that, he took two steps west and pushed open the door to a guest bedroom, “Here’s your room.”

Song Siheng had prepared in advance when he was discharged from the hospital. He had just arranged for a housekeeper to come and clean the guest bedroom and make the bed.

Yang Xiaobei peeked inside. The room was quite spacious, about twenty to thirty square meters, with a large bed nearly two meters wide. Beige cotton linen curtains adorned the window, and against the wall was a row of light gray wardrobes. A soft white wool carpet lay at the foot of the bed.

“It’s nice, just a bit lonely,” Yang Xiaobei commented.

Song Siheng ignored his comment and instead helped him bring in his luggage, along with a bag of ointments and oral medications prescribed by the doctor upon discharge.

“These five boxes are for daily use, and the frequency is written on the boxes. This gel is for promoting wound recovery. Change the dressing and gauze every two days for a week,” Song Siheng explained.

“Who’s going to help me change the dressing?” Yang Xiaobei grabbed his arm.

“You didn’t injure your hands, did you?” Song Siheng asked back.

“Ah, just pulling like this hurts,” Yang Xiaobei said, clutching his chest and then his upper arm, feigning pain.

Song Siheng sighed, “Go take a shower. Afterward, I’ll help you change.”

This was the first time, and Song Siheng regretted not having a long-term maid.

“Okay. Then I’ll go take a shower myself,” Yang Xiaobei raised his arm, took off his loose T-shirt, revealing his upper body bound by the chest brace, which was indeed paler and thinner than before.

“I can handle it myself,” he repeated, with an obvious implication in his tone.

“What do you mean? Do you need my help?”

Yang Xiaobei lowered his eyelids and shook his head repeatedly, “No need, no need. I can manage by myself. If something goes wrong and I accidentally get an infection after surgery, I can just go back to the hospital for another week. Really, I’ll be fine.”

Yang Xiaobei spoke with a tearful tone.

Song Siheng couldn’t help but sigh all day long. He then raised his hand, took off his own shirt, threw it aside, and then patted Yang Xiaobei’s shoulder.

“Let’s go to the bathroom.”