Disobedience To Control chapter 23
Self-awareness of Being Kept
“What’s wrong with your face?” Song Siheng frowned.
Yang Xiaobei subconsciously touched the wound, forcing out an awkward smile, “Someone wanted to support me and got beaten up by me.”
Song Siheng saw him starting to talk nonsense again, and with a bang, he opened the car door, gesturing for him to get into the passenger seat, “When will you start telling the truth?”
“Hehe,” Yang Xiaobei got into the car, smiling apologetically with lowered eyelids, “It’s nothing, just had a little conflict with my teammate.”
“What kind of teammate would resort to such violence?” Song Siheng turned to look at his face, but didn’t start the car.
“What’s wrong, are you feeling sorry for me?” Yang Xiaobei finally returned to his usual frivolous self. Surprisingly, Song Siheng felt much better.
“Could you please be a bit more aware of being kept?” Song Siheng lifted his hand and gently tapped his cheek. “Even your appearance was purchased by me. Take good care of it.”
“Admit it, you can’t live without me.” Yang Xiaobei gave him a flirtatious look, then grabbed his hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t make a habit of it.”
Song Siheng didn’t know where he got this conclusion from.
“I was worried a few days ago that you wouldn’t pay me this month. It seems I was overthinking.” Yang Xiaobei patted his chest, breathing a sigh of relief.
“Yang Xiaobei.” Song Siheng called his name but averted his gaze, looking ahead.
“What’s wrong?”
“If you didn’t have such a sharp tongue, you could earn even more.” With that, Song Siheng stepped on the gas and drove away.
As the car went further, the road became increasingly unfamiliar. Yang Xiaobei hastily fastened his seatbelt. “Where are you taking me at this late hour?!”
Song Siheng didn’t turn his head. “To buy iodine!”
After turning three corners, Song Siheng finally found a 24-hour pharmacy. He made an abrupt stop, parking the car on the side of the road. Yang Xiaobei instinctively tried to get out of the car.
“Sit still!” Song Siheng scolded, turning his head.
Five minutes later, Song Siheng came out with a white paper bag.
Yang Xiaobei took a look and found a bottle of iodine, a box of wound gel, and a box of antibiotics inside. “This is too much. I don’t need it; my wound is almost healed.”
“Stop talking nonsense. Your wound is still bleeding. If it gets infected, they might have to cut off your brain.” Although Song Siheng’s words were harsh, his hands didn’t stop. He took out the bottle of iodine, soaked two cotton swabs, and applied the brown liquid. “Face, come here.”
Yang Xiaobei obediently leaned closer.
Song Siheng gently applied the cotton swab from top to bottom on his wound, wiping away the fresh blood stains. They were very close, and Song Siheng’s knuckles would accidentally brush against his cheek.
Yang Xiaobei felt a little itchy from the friction and instinctively moved back.
“Don’t move!” Song Siheng clicked his tongue and straightened his head.
Soon, Yang Xiaobei’s jawline had several brown watermarks. Song Siheng seemed afraid that the disinfection wasn’t thorough enough, so he applied it a few more times.
After scrutinizing it twice, he furrowed his brow. “Feels like it needs stitches.”
“But no need for that. It’s just a small cut. Once, I got into a fight with a dog and got bitten badly, but I didn’t need stitches.”
“…” Song Siheng had nothing to say.
Bang! Crack!
Between their conversation, a huge explosion suddenly came from behind the car.
Yang Xiaobei was startled, turning to look, only to see fireworks filling the sky.
They both looked in the same direction, where countless fireworks exploded in the sky above the steel forest, illuminating the entire night sky. The light reflected on their faces, flickering, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.
Song Siheng had never had the habit of celebrating, nor had he ever paid attention to such details. This was the first time he had seen the entire city’s night sky turn pink.
The fireworks became denser, with sporadic bursts of purple and gold.
The clock on the car’s dashboard jumped a digit, and midnight arrived, flipping the year.
Yang Xiaobei, in the passenger seat, was stunned for a moment before remembering to speak. “Happy New Year, Siheng.”
Song Siheng didn’t expect him to suddenly say this, feeling a warmth in his ears. He avoided his gaze, then quickly echoed, “Happy New Year.”
As the fireworks faded, Song Siheng turned his head, grabbed the steering wheel, and ignited the engine again.
Yang Xiaobei hadn’t reacted yet and asked, “Where are we going?”
“I’ll take you back to school. Give me the address.”
“It’s past the school’s curfew.” Yang Xiaobei looked at him.
“What did you do when you were late before?” Song Siheng looked at him through the rearview mirror. Last time they had their absurdity in the parking garage, it was already past one o’clock.
“Booked an hourly room, slept until five-thirty, then went back.” Yang Xiaobei honestly replied, “Today is a statutory holiday; I probably can’t even book an hourly room.”
Song Siheng called the hotel he often booked, only to be gently informed by the front desk that since it was a holiday, not a weekend, the top floor suite had been booked.
Song Siheng sighed, took a few seconds to think, then turned his head and asked, “No class tomorrow, right?”
“Of course, it’s New Year’s Day.” Yang Xiaobei shook his head repeatedly.
It was already late at night, and only a few cars were passing by on the overpass. Song Siheng stepped on the gas pedal, and the car sped forward.
“Are you going to take me to some desolate place and abandon me?” Yang Xiaobei looked at the increasingly desolate scenery outside the window, crossing his arms and rubbing them.
Song Siheng didn’t answer. He exited the highway at the next fork, then turned into a secluded area.
Looking out through the car window, Yang Xiaobei saw a newly built villa area. However, there were not many households living here, with only a few houses lit up.
“Where is this?” he asked.
“My house.” Song Siheng drove into the villa area and drove nearly a hundred meters further before stopping in front of a three-story small building.
Naturally, Song Siheng wouldn’t take him back to the apartment he usually lived in. This time, he brought him to the suburban villa that he rarely visited.
He would only stay here occasionally when it was inconvenient to drive back to the city from the airport. The study here stored some of his sealed documents, and except for regular cleaning, no one would come over.
It had been nearly half a month since the last time he came. After some thought, Song Siheng took the file bag from the car and merged it with a cowhide paper bag.
“Get off.” He said to Yang Xiaobei.
“Your house is really big.” Yang Xiaobei got out of the car and stood in front of the small building, looking up.
There were two street lights outside the yard, and this small building was obviously meticulously designed, with a neat sloping roof, gray-white exterior, a wide first floor, and a dark gray entrance door in the middle. On the south side of the second floor were two huge French windows. The third floor was an attic with a sloping roof.
The courtyard was not small, surrounding the villa, with three sides very spacious. Several evergreen trees were planted facing south, but the grass on the ground was obviously neglected and had grown very high.
“Is there no one to maintain this lawn?” Yang Xiaobei asked as he passed by.
“I don’t usually live here,” Song Siheng entered the password for the entrance door, and the door opened.
“Do you have other houses?” Yang Xiaobei, despite the wounds on his face, laughed without reserve, “You’re really rich.”
Pushing the door open, they entered the foyer first. The shoe cabinet was sensor-controlled, and Song Siheng reached in and pulled out a pair of slippers, tossing them to Yang Xiaobei.
As they walked inside, the living room was about ten square meters, with a self-leveling floor, spacious and neat. There were French windows on the southeast and southwest sides, one side connecting to a long rectangular dining room on the north side. A large LCD screen hung on the wall to the west of the living room, and there were only two single sofas facing each other.
“You only put two small sofas in such a big living room?”
Song Siheng glanced over, “I live alone, so I don’t need a big sofa.”
“Take off your coat and hang it on the rack. Feel free to sit anywhere,” Song Siheng said, then headed towards the bathroom next to the stairs.
When he came out, Yang Xiaobei had evidently adapted to the environment here. Somehow he managed to turn on the ambient light strips next to the sofa and also pulled down the motorized blinds. The flickering light inside the house created a dim and ambiguous atmosphere.
“Boss, you have quite a taste.”
Looking at him, Song Siheng felt both amused and exasperated. “You better focus on yourself.”
“Look up,” Song Siheng took the paper bag he brought back from the pharmacy, turned his face towards him.
“What? Are we going to kiss?”
Ignoring his words, Song Siheng held his neck and opened the medicine box in his hand. “Healing gel to promote recovery. Turn your face.”
Soft light illuminated Song Siheng’s nose bridge, with Yang Xiaobei’s face tilted towards him, just a dozen centimeters away.
Song Siheng had a habit. When his attention was overly focused, he would bite his lower lip with his incisors.
At this moment, Yang Xiaobei was staring at his lips, motionless.
It wasn’t until the cotton swab slid over the wound for the third time that Yang Xiaobei couldn’t help but laugh, “It tickles.”
Song Siheng’s hand shook, and the cotton swab almost dropped.
“You can finish the rest yourself,” it was his first time serving someone like this, so he said and handed it over to Yang Xiaobei.
Yang Xiaobei tore open a piece of medical tape nearby and casually stuck it on himself, “All done. It’ll be fine in a couple of days.”
“You better pray it doesn’t scar,” Song Siheng turned to look at him.
“What, am I going to get money deducted for scars too?”
Song Siheng didn’t respond further. Yang Xiaobei was indeed very focused on money, always bringing it up whenever they met.
The first floor consisted of the living and dining rooms. Going upstairs, there were two bedrooms facing south, with the master bedroom to the east and the guest bedroom to the west. To the north was a spacious study, with doors and windows tightly closed.
Song Siheng lived here alone most of the time. The so-called guest bedroom didn’t even have a bed, just an empty floor.
Yang Xiaobei followed Song Siheng upstairs, not hesitating to enter the master bedroom with him.
“It’s getting late, I’ll take a shower first. If you need to shower, you can use the guest bathroom to the west, on the right after entering,” Song Siheng found two rarely worn clothes from the closet and tossed them to him, “If the clothes are too small, let me know.”
Just as he finished speaking, he noticed the conspicuous wound on Yang Xiaobei’s face, “Go put on a waterproof bandage.”
“Haha, I thought you were going to help me shower,” Yang Xiaobei raised his hand and took off his sweater, revealing his upper body.
Only then did Song Siheng notice the several red and purple bruises on his waist and back. Although not too shocking, they still evoked a sense of pity.
“Did someone beat you up?” Song Siheng couldn’t help but ask.
Yang Xiaobei turned to look at his own injuries, “It’s nothing, I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.”
Song Siheng didn’t bother to ask for the real reason. Yang Xiaobei was always talking big, hardly any of his words could be taken seriously.
After a night of fussing around, Song Siheng was already feeling tired. He grabbed his pajamas and headed to the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, he finished washing up and drying his hair. When he walked back to the bedroom, Yang Xiaobei hadn’t returned from his shower yet.
The sound of water from the guest bathroom hadn’t stopped. Thinking of his injuries all over, Song Siheng surprisingly felt a pang of sympathy.
Dragging his weary body, he knocked on the door of the guest bathroom.
“Are you okay?”
Soon, the sound of water inside stopped. But after a minute or two, the door opened.
Yang Xiaobei was bare from the waist up, only wearing a towel around his waist. He hadn’t even put on the clothes Song Siheng gave him.
Seeing that he was fine, Song Siheng relaxed and returned to the master bedroom to prepare to turn off the lights and sleep. Just as he was about to press the switch, Yang Xiaobei came over and held his hand from behind.
“I’ve dried off.” Yang Xiaobei rubbed his cheek against Song Siheng’s arm, his injured face looking particularly pitiful with the band-aid.
“What do you mean?” Song Siheng rubbed his temples.
“Can we leave the lights on tonight?” He loosened his towel, leaning close to Song Siheng and asked softly.