Chapter 20: Delirious Dreams

You want me to wear this?

What a joke.

But Xiaohe was already tugging at my clothes. Today, I was wearing an extremely ordinary plaid shirt—I'd bet that no one in this bar looked as unfashionable as me. Even the cleaning lady dressed better.

And then there was Liang Zhiting, not to mention his friends, all dressed up and dazzling. Among them, I was like a chicken among white cranes, or a husky among wolves. I pressed down Xiaohe’s hands as he tried to strip me, sticking out my tongue, and murmured, “Don’t...”

Xiaohe didn’t even look up. “I don’t mind you, why are you hiding?”

Someone nearby chimed in, “Change! We’re all men here, what’s there to be afraid of?”

I hadn’t noticed that Xiaohe, the youngest, was actually the most openly dressed among them. I suppose they all knew how he usually dressed and acted, otherwise, they wouldn’t be laughing so wildly at the punishment.

They were all waiting to watch me embarrass myself.

I was too drunk to resist, and Xiaohe easily pulled off the collar of my shirt. A chill ran over my shoulders and I shivered, helplessly looking back at Liang Zhiting.

Our eyes met, but he made no move to help me. Forgetting everything else, I whispered his name softly, “Liang Zhiting, please… help me…”

In the dim light, his Adam’s apple bobbed a few times.

Then he blocked Xiaohe’s hand. Xiaohe frowned, complaining, “Come on, Liang-ge, why are you helping him cheat?”

Liang Zhiting lowered his head and quietly whispered in my ear, “Everyone’s watching. Just wear it for a little while. They’ll stop soon.”

I was speechless and choked up.

How come I can’t avoid this today?

He said, “He’s shy—go change in the bathroom.”

Xiaohe zipped up his jacket with a grumble, “So troublesome,” then got up and headed for the restroom.

Liang Zhiting helped me up, saying, “I’ll help you change.”

My legs felt like cotton; I couldn’t stand on my own. Leaning on him for support, I slowly made my way to the bathroom.

The three of us squeezed into a tiny stall. Xiaohe quickly took off his clothes and handed me the white halter top, but I didn’t take it; Liang Zhiting accepted it for me.

Xiaohe tried on my plaid shirt and wrinkled his nose, “What era is this from? You’re going for an archaeological look?”

I was too weak to argue.

The men’s restroom stall wasn’t exactly a great place. Xiaohe changed quickly and left, saying, “Hurry up, you guys!”

I had nothing on my upper body and felt cold. Liang Zhiting slipped that bold halter top over me. With so little fabric, his fingers inevitably touched my skin—and the warmth from his fingertips made me shiver uncontrollably.

“Why are you shaking? Cold?”

He touched my spine twice.

I bit my teeth tightly, nodding, “Mm…”

“I’ll be quick.”

Putting on that shirt really seemed complicated. Liang Zhiting helped me for a long time—long enough to nearly put me to sleep. My legs were unsteady and I couldn’t lean on the wall, so I leaned on Liang Zhiting’s chest for support to stay upright.

After who knows how long, he tied a neat butterfly knot at my waist, lowered his hands, and smiled, “Done.”

I blinked my heavy eyelids. My lips were dry: “Tha... thank you.”

On the way out, I glanced into the mirror by the sink. The sight of my outfit stunned me blank; I wished I could crawl into a hole.

This was more shameful than being naked.

I couldn’t move. Just thinking about being seen by so many people made me not want to go out at all.

Liang Zhiting asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to…”

He understood and soothed me, “It’s just for a little while. Don’t worry, I’ll cover you.”

I shook my head so hard stars spun before my eyes.

He sighed and took off his own jacket, draping it over me. “Here, cover up a bit. Okay?”

Wearing his jacket, his scent surrounded me completely. I froze for a moment, tugging at the collar, hiding half my face under it, greedily inhaling deep.

So fragrant.

I felt lightheaded and nodded.

“Let’s go.” He reached out and pulled me up without hesitation.

I dazedly followed him. When the music waves from the dance floor surrounded us again, I realized he was holding my hand—not just a casual grip but with all ten fingers intertwined.

Something felt off… but my head was too fuzzy to pinpoint what.

Only when he led me to my seat did I remember—he wasn’t wearing a ring tonight.

As soon as I sat, Xiaohe lifted my jacket. I barely had time to block him before all eyes turned sharply on me. The air froze for a moment before erupting in loud laughter, mixed with whistles.

I lowered my head; blood rushed to my face.

Liang Zhiting also laughed. I heard his laugh.

I glanced at him; he was watching me. Just as I was about to speak, he suddenly leaned in very close—almost uncomfortably so—whispering, “Looks great, Nan Li.”

“…” I gripped my clothes tight, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly thirsty.

I’d already put it on and suffered the punishment. I wanted to change back into my plaid shirt, but Xiaohe refused to switch, even tossing Liang Zhiting’s jacket aside to keep me in that revealing outfit until the end of the night.

At first I was self-conscious about the outfit, but as the alcohol took over, I no longer cared. Eventually, I passed out, collapsing on the sofa. When I woke, only Liang Zhiting remained; the others had left.

He was messaging on his phone. Seeing me wake, he put the screen away and helped me sit up, “How are you? Feeling better?”

Not at all. After sleep, I felt worse.

“My head’s spinning…”

He said, “You drank too much. Let’s get you home early. I’ll take you.”

Home.

Hearing that word jolted me awake. I resisted, “No… not going back…” I shook my head like a spinning top, stammering, “No home, I don’t want to go…”

Seeing me refuse, he quickly comforted, “Okay, not going home, we won’t go.”

That snapped my tension; I quickly fell asleep again.

This sleep was restless. Half-dreaming, half-awake, it seemed I was being dragged or held. My feet alternated between touching the ground and floating midair, until I was gently dropped onto a soft cloud.

It was a bit cold, but my blood felt hot—an icy fire burning me as I writhed uncomfortably.

“Don’t move.”

“Nan... soon... better.”

“Go wash... up…”

Voices spoke half-heartedly—so familiar.

Where had I heard them?

Who was it?

“Baby?”

I recalled that deep, dark blue sea.

Suddenly I opened my eyes. My stomach churned, and I vomited all the alcohol I’d drank.

“Ah!”

I heard a voice—it was Liang Zhiting.

After vomiting, with my awareness returned a bit, I propped myself up like a zombie. My vision blurred with double images. I touched my face—my glasses were missing.

Damn, where were my glasses?

I stretched and felt around until I found them. Once they were on, the world sharpened instantly.

After a few seconds, I looked around and slowly realized I was in a hotel room.

Water splashed loudly from the bathroom. A pile of clothes stained with vomit lay on the floor. Those were Liang Zhiting’s clothes.

He must be showering.

…Right, I’d just thrown up on him, staining his clothes.

So this wasn’t a dream.

I’d caused him trouble again. I felt sorry.

Awkwardly, I rubbed my face and instinctively looked down—then froze.

My pants were halfway off, tight around my thighs and uncomfortable.

I pulled them back up, thinking Liang Zhiting must have taken them off, worried I’d soil them. What else could it be?

Next, my eyes caught a partially opened square foil packet on the bed—a new condom inside.

Anyone dumb could piece it together.

Given where I was and the situation, everything pointed to one clear answer—

—Liang Zhiting wanted to sleep with me.

While I was drunk and unconscious.

I wasn’t normal, but I knew this wasn’t something a normal person would do.

I was confused, head lowering as I tried to piece it all together.

Liang Zhiting knew I liked him, and that’s why he wanted to sleep with me? Wait, no—that’s not right. He never said he liked me or asked me. Besides, he was already married.

Can a married man have a rendezvous outside? Can he sleep with someone else?

Liang Zhiting… shouldn’t be this kind of person.

There must be some mistake. It has to be a misunderstanding…

Ding dong—

Ding dong, ding dong—

A buzzing came from the small table nearby, along with WeChat notifications.

It was Liang Zhiting’s phone.

I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop myself. An invisible force pulled me up. I stumbled over to the table and unlocked his phone.


I’d glimpsed that code once when we went to an amusement park.

The phone unlocked smoothly, revealing a string of unread messages, marked bright red.

I stared at his profile pic. This wasn’t the WeChat account he used with me.

It appeared to be one of his alternate accounts.

I rubbed my eyes and forced myself to look at the messages. After a while, my pupils constricted, and my breath nearly stopped.

The chats were flushed with explicit, flirtatious content between him and many men and women. Some of the crude love talk was shockingly direct—hard to believe it all came from Liang Zhiting.

In the list was a familiar name: Fang Qiaoqiao. I’d met her on Liang’s wedding day; she was Fu Qian’s friend and also attended. Their chat history showed an improper relationship lasting two years, with the latest message just a week ago—Liang sent a hotel location and a message: “Come here, waiting for you.”

Fang Qiaoqiao replied with a heart emoji.

Liang Zhiting was already married by then; Fang Qiaoqiao knew it, too, yet they kept in contact. Behind Fu Qian’s back, they flirted and slept together.

That poor woman was kept in the dark.

Silent, I covered my mouth. My stomach still felt queasy, nausea lingering.

Liang Zhiting's list had both new and old contacts. Could it be that all these people had slept with him? Once, multiple times, countless times?

…

At the top of the chat list was a group. I tapped in and was shocked to see Xiaohe chatting there.

The group was lively, messages pouring in quickly:

“That country bumpkin looked so tacky, but had a nice body. Just that face’s a total turn-off. If it were me, I wouldn’t get hard.”

“That’s just you. Look at Liang-ge; he’ll try anything.”

“People caught by Liang-ge’s eye can’t be bad. Maybe there’s something special about him. @Liang Zhiting, why aren’t you replying?”

“He’s out at a hotel, no time for messages. Probably too busy now. Too bad we can’t watch (smirk).”

“Liang-ge, don’t forget to send us some videos when you’re done playing!”

Every word suffocated me.

Trembling, I scrolled up and saw green messages from Liang himself:

“Keep pouring the drinks for him, what are you waiting for?”

“He can’t hold his liquor. Once he’s drunk enough, you can have your turn.”

“Xiaohe, your move.”

These messages matched the time we played dice at the bar. No wonder I felt Xiaohe was targeting me on purpose—it was Liang Zhiting's order.

Why?

Further up were conversations from last night.

Liang Zhiting: “I’m bringing someone tomorrow. Help me mess around a bit.”

Reply: “Oh, new prey? What kind? Tell us first.”

Liang Zhiting: “A country bumpkin who really likes me, blatantly flirting. A slut who comes when I beckon.”

Those words destroyed me. My breath caught, eyes wet and swollen; my hands trembled and I nearly dropped the phone. I knew who he meant.

“Country bumpkin? You’re not picky.”

Liang Zhiting: “It’s just about sleeping together for the thrill of it. Once he takes off his glasses, he actually looks pretty good—good enough to make a move on.”

“Count on you guys tomorrow.”

Flooded with “OK” emojis.

I froze, staring at the screen until it turned black. In the dark, I saw my face, ashen.

…

What is this…?

“A slut who comes when I beckon”—is that how he truly sees me?

Flirting? When did I ever do that? He said we were friends—I guarded that fragile relationship carefully, not daring a single misstep, afraid to annoy him. I only wanted to be near him, standing where I could see him. I wouldn’t dare hope for more…

Why would Liang Zhiting say such things about me? How could he say those things?

He shouldn’t say them.

The boy I liked for six years—I still remember exactly how he looked then. Bathed in sunlight, his figure shaded by trees, his smile the only brilliant color in the world.

A smile that effortlessly stole my heart, how could he become such a filthy, wretched mess?

Did I misjudge him?

Now, how could I accept it? How could I admit that all these years, I loved only a mirage—a delusional fantasy born from my twisted craving and obsession, creating this sick, distorted dream?

I gilded him in my mind without realizing the rot beneath the gold.

—

Author’s note:

Wahaha! Poor Nan is heartbroken and about to go on a rampage! Warning: From here on, it’s all about our doll-bro’s showtime! Finally arriving at my favorite part! (And by the way, I quite like the nickname “doll-bro” for him, haha.)