Just then, a small gust of wind lifted one corner of the battlefield.
Everyone’s attention was still fixed on the tragedy unfolding at sea. No one noticed that in a dark corner of the pier, one of the wounded men who had been lying half-dead on the ground had been abandoned when his own people fled by boat. The man raised his head with malicious intent and quietly drew a metal concealed weapon.
Yan Xiaodao and Ling He both caught the movement at almost exactly the same moment. The sparks smoldering uncontrollably in their chests finally found an outlet. They moved together, both launching kicks, one striking the man’s wrist and the other his back. Yan Xiaodao’s dark brows were drawn sharply over bloodshot eyes, while Ling He’s face was snow-white and his pupils flickered. Caught between them from front and rear, the unlucky bastard flew several meters with a howl, landed neatly beyond the edge of the deck, and sent up a towering splash.
The next second, Yan Xiaodao pulled back. Ling He did not.
Ling He’s face was deathly pale, firelight reflected between his brows as his gaze locked onto the vulnerable spot beneath Yan Xiaodao’s ribs exposed by the sweep of his arm. His hard right knee traveled in an unobstructed arc, every ounce of force behind it, and smashed viciously into the lower right side of Yan Xiaodao’s chest, exactly where one blow could shatter bone.
Yan Xiaodao’s chest seemed to cave inward under the impact. He could almost hear countless cracks spreading through his fifth and sixth ribs on the right before the bones gave way and broke. The agony in his chest turned into a thick, sweet taste of blood rising from his stomach into his throat, but he forced it back through sheer will. No matter what happened, he refused to show weakness or plead for sympathy in front of this man.
He could no longer remain standing. His muscles lost control and his body toppled backward. Just before the back of his skull struck the deck, an arm seemed to sweep beneath him, and instead of his head, a palm cushioning it slammed against the hard railway sleeper.
The instant he hit the ground, his stomach churned violently. His last reserves of strength finally gave out, and blood sprayed through the gaps between his teeth. His chest seized in an agony that felt as though it had been torn into pieces, leaving him unable to speak.
Soft cries of “Ah!” sounded around them. The black-clad youngsters instinctively shut their eyes. God, that…
Reflected in Yan Xiaodao’s brown pupils was Ling He’s heartbreakingly beautiful face.
That kick had contained no hesitation whatsoever, all ten parts of his strength poured into it. But Ling He had never intended to strike a second time.
Perhaps Mr. Ling knew himself well enough. No one in this world was truly made of stone and completely incapable of feeling. If a second blow had been necessary, he probably would not have been able to deliver it.
At that same instant, Ling He’s own chest seemed to suffer a devastating blow. His body shuddered violently and almost theatrically as he bit his lower lip and bent over. It felt as though the upper half of his body, connected to his heart and every human emotion he possessed, was locked in a desperate fight with the two legs beneath him that had committed the crime, threatening to tear him in half at the waist. People say twins related by blood sometimes share a mysterious connection. Xiaodao and I share no blood at all, so why does my chest hurt now too? It really hurts…
He had never experienced feelings like this before. He had not known that hurting Xiaodao would hurt him so badly.
But Ling He would have no other opportunity. Tonight was probably his only chance to act. After Yan Xiaodao had fought through one brutal battle and exhausted himself enough to lower his guard, one strike would inevitably succeed.
Xiaodao, hate me.
Xiaodao, you’ll never forgive me.
……
Yan Xiaodao lay on the deck for some time with darkness clouding his vision and his consciousness wavering.
His sweat-dampened lips moved slightly, but he did not ask, “Why?”
If he still needed to ask the man opposite him why, then he would truly have been too foolish for words.
Some things could be seen through, yet still could not be endured. Some things could be anticipated, yet still could not be guarded against.
Yan Xiaodao had only known that Mr. Ling’s legs were healed, that he could walk and run and probably climb walls and cliffs. He had once been crippled, but he had recovered. What Yan Xiaodao had never considered was how much hardship Ling He had suffered to restore those legs, how much blood and sweat he had shed through rehabilitation, how many times more grueling training than an ordinary person he had endured, and for what purpose. Anyone else might have given up long ago. Being able to walk again for the rest of one’s life should already have been enough. Who would still dream of going out and fighting in the streets?
That was why Yan Xiaodao had never guarded against the possibility that Ling He had actually trained his lower body in martial arts.
In front of Mr. Ling, he had ultimately lowered the defenses he should have guarded most firmly. One encounter with Ling He had truly cost him a lifetime.
They had known one another for so long and endured several crises and disasters together. Even the constant humiliation, mockery, and vulgar harassment directed at a supposed “cripple” by the people around them remained vivid in Yan Xiaodao’s memory. Yet someone with Ling He’s temper had endured every last insult. Despite his youth, he understood perfectly how to conceal his strength and bide his time, saving his greatest move until the very end. Now the truth was exposed. All his former weakness and helplessness had been illusions designed to deceive. Even moments Yan Xiaodao had treasured as sweet memories between them, words such as “If you walk out that door tonight, I’ll be waiting here to be hacked into pieces,” had all been smokescreens meant to breach his heart and seize his defenses, weapons used to conquer his inner world so that the final, fatal blow could land when it mattered most.
“The police will be here soon. Bring him. We’re leaving.” Ling He’s voice held no ripple of emotion. His calm was terrifying. He turned away without another glance.
He was a man who arranged his life methodically, step by step, planning every move in advance and calculating it with painstaking care. On the road he had chosen, the only disastrous miscalculation he had ever regretted was allowing himself to fall emotionally for Yan Xiaodao.
Half-conscious and tortured by pain, Yan Xiaodao was lifted by several people and placed into a vehicle.
Police sirens wailed across the bay. A black ribbon of oil spread across the water beside the pier, and the rain quickly extinguished what remained of the flames, leaving only horrifying stretches of charred wreckage.
This was a major incident even by the standards of local circles. By morning, gossip would be everywhere. People would whisper that the arrogant and overbearing Young Master You had died in an explosion and fire during a fight of unknown origin. Half would guess it had been a business dispute or quarrel over dividing profits; the other half would assume he had fought somebody over a woman. He had offended so many people that no one could count his enemies. Meanwhile, the infamous fake-Japanese bastard Watanabe Yangshan had finally met a ghost while walking the night road. Severely burned in the explosion, he had fallen into the sea and been taken unconscious to the hospital. His miserable old life might finally have reached its end.
Only You Jinglian remained on the pier, utterly alone. Everyone was shocked when he was discovered. The police had just received an internal order for his arrest and formally placed the fugitive official surnamed You on the wanted list, notifying ports and border checkpoints by land, sea, and air to inspect departing travelers. Yet by sheer coincidence, they had found him alive here.
As for what exactly had happened, the eyewitness You Jinglian could no longer give them a complete account from beginning to end.
After suffering blow upon blow, the last fragile neuron in You Jinglian’s mind had finally snapped. He had lost his sanity.
When they found him, Official You was crawling and trembling in the rain, cheeks sunken and eyes vacant, every trace of his former bearing gone. His fingers brushed against a discarded blade and he snatched it up as though he had found a priceless treasure. Gripping the hilt with both hands, he stabbed straight down into the wooden sleeper on the deck with all the strength he could muster, again and again, as if smashing the broken jar simply because it was already broken, venting the final scraps of violence and resentment left in his subconscious.
The wood was soon covered in dense puncture marks from the knife tip. Unfortunately, Yan Xiaodao never saw this crucial scene and had no opportunity to pull Ling He aside and ask him frankly: Why was this Official You on your revenge list?
Yan Xiaodao lay far away on a rise formed from black reef stone. Through blurred vision he could still vaguely see activity at the pier. The people rushing back and forth there had become tiny, frantic silhouettes. No one at the pier could see them here.
From the man’s build and height, Yan Xiaodao recognized the black-clad “young man” holding a gun against his temple as the same person who had followed him at Red Square. The kid was not especially strong, but could practically fly over walls and leave no tracks in snow, and seemed to have learned a few tricks of Japanese ninjutsu.
Ling He sat cross-legged in the wind atop the reef, gazing toward the heavy clouds gathering and separating in the distance.
So he can sit cross-legged too. Is there anything he can’t do? Yan Xiaodao thought with a bitter inward laugh.
The rain eased. A faint sliver of light appeared along the horizon, illuminating their hearts at exactly the right moment, as though neither had ever seen the other so clearly. Fine rain still fell over Yan Xiaodao, and Ling He sat in the mud beneath the same drizzle, almost deliberately keeping him company, refusing to let Xiaodao suffer alone.
Ling He’s voice remained as low and gentle as ever. “Why don’t you ask me why I attacked you?”
Yan Xiaodao was weak with pain, yet completely lucid. “I understand.”
Droplets clung to Ling He’s eyelashes. His lips moved for a long moment before, still unwilling to give up, he finally asked, “Then can you… would you… change your mind?”
Their gazes met and reached directly into one another’s hearts. No explanation was necessary. Ling He immediately withdrew the question. “You don’t need to answer. I won’t ask again.”
He had never been this indecisive with anyone else. Yan Xiaodao had rejected him more than once already. Did he really need to offer his face up to be slapped again?
Ling He looked deeply at him. “Xiaodao, I sincerely warned you before. The next time you saw me, you were never to soften your heart, never to hold back against me. You didn’t listen.
“Yan Xiaodao, you think too highly of yourself. You’re far too confident, and you’ve made too many mistakes along the way. Your greatest mistake was being too softhearted toward me! And even that wouldn’t have mattered, except your second fatal mistake was repeatedly sparing me because of that softness, then decisively cutting off every road between us and refusing to yield to me. The only time you’re ever truly decisive is when you reject me!
“Your third fatal weakness is that you’re too strong… With a man like you beside Qi Baoshan, how could anyone possibly avoid fearing and guarding against you? Anyone who wants to make an enemy of Qi Baoshan could never leave you there to obstruct them. That fortune-teller back then was right. You were the great benefactor who brought your godfather wealth and success through the first half of his life. You’re strong, and your fate is strong. How could I possibly leave you to Master Qi?”
Yan Xiaodao stared at Ling He. He understood every word and finally understood exactly what Ling He intended to do.
Never before had Young Master Ling seemed so mature and composed in Yan Xiaodao’s eyes. This young man did not seem twenty-three years old at all. Yan Xiaodao had still underestimated him.
But Yan Xiaodao had no intention of changing his answer, much less begging for mercy.
Ling He bent close and whispered, “You’re the one I’m keeping for myself… I will never leave you to anyone else.”
Without the slightest hesitation, Ling He’s fingers moved swiftly. He pulled open Yan Xiaodao’s shirt and drew a blade ten cun long from the black abdominal belt. Cold light flashed across Yan Xiaodao’s eyes. He had spent half his life roaming the docks of Jinmen without meeting an opponent, never imagining that one day he too would stumble and meet with bloodshed.
Elio’s Notes: A cun is a traditional Chinese unit of length. In modern standardized measurement, one cun is roughly 3.3 centimeters, so the blade described here is about 33 centimeters long.
The point pierced directly through the place where bone, tendons, and vessels crossed most densely around his ankle. Ling He drove it all the way through with brute force until the blade plunged vertically into the rock beneath him.
Blood burst out at once, spreading across his trouser leg and foot in a flowing red river.
Yan Xiaodao’s entire body convulsed. Every muscle tightened to its limit as he fought the tearing agony ripping through his ankle. His eyelashes trembled violently. His grave eyes seemed to disappear behind a black curtain, every trace of light gone. His body shifted slowly over the ground, curling inward in a defensive posture to protect itself, while only his right foot remained pinned immovably to the earth. His teeth clamped down on his lips so hard that not a single sound escaped.
“Aahhh!” The black-clad youngster who had been holding the gun against Yan Xiaodao’s head cried out involuntarily. Fortunately, the finger on the trigger did not twitch. Everyone standing around them silently covered their faces in horror.
That clear, high voice finally exposed the youngster’s true identity. The person tore off the black mask and stared wide-eyed at Ling He.
In the light, the truth became obvious. The supposed “young man” was actually a strikingly handsome young woman with a long, slender face. She was the “Cat” President Ling had once mentioned, and her full name was Mao Zhixiu. Her temperament was simply androgynous and her movements crisp and efficient, which was why President Yan had previously mistaken her for a man.
Mao Zhixiu pulled an expression that plainly said that hurts just looking at it and glared resentfully at her own ruinously cruel young master. Perhaps President Yan’s face really did appeal to men and women, old and young alike, and his tall, handsome figure made him universally likable. Back at Tide-Watching Villa, even this black-clad “kid” had been unwilling to strike President Yan too viciously and had deliberately shown mercy for Ling He’s sake. Sure enough, hidden shots always came from behind, and the person beside your pillow was the one who struck hardest.
The next instant, Ling He tossed his phone directly to someone behind him. “Record him. Right now.”
Ling He himself turned his gaze away and handed the task to someone else. Several people behind him silently opened the camera and recorded everything, wasting none of the scene before them. Yet the atmosphere was heavy. From the man responsible to the followers around him, not one face showed triumph or delight. Nobody could bring themselves to gloat over Yan Xiaodao’s suffering.
Light shattered like broken glass inside Ling He’s eyes. He asked in a low voice, “Xiaodao, do you blame me for being too cruel? When you destroyed both my feet, did you ever think today would come?”
Yan Xiaodao’s shoulders and back spasmed faintly. Exhaustion and blood loss blurred his vision, while the agony coursing through his body kept him brutally awake. Sweat covered his lips. He neither cried out nor answered.
Ling He said, “You destroyed two of my feet. I’ve only destroyed one of yours. Consider it mercy for the sake of what we had between us. Xiaodao, do you think you’ve lost out?”
At last a faint spark appeared in Yan Xiaodao’s eyes. He rasped, “No.”
Ling He removed his wristwatch, set an alarm, and placed it directly in Yan Xiaodao’s line of sight. “I’ve set it for one hour. Exactly one hour. Watch it yourself. Back then I lay in bed and endured an entire hour of pain without making a sound. I could take it, so you can take it too. I won’t take advantage of you by even one minute!”
Blood seemed to burn in Ling He’s eyes. At that moment he was genuinely ruthless, showing mercy neither to others nor to himself. Whoever softened first lost.
Yan Xiaodao understood that too. Whoever softened first lost.
Today he had lost miserably, utterly and completely. Quietly assessing the damage to his ankle, he suspected the tendon had been severed. This foot might be ruined.
It was the greatest setback and the most devastating injury of his life, yet never in ten thousand possibilities had he imagined that all this flashing steel and blood would come from Ling He. A tearing agony even worse than the wound in his ankle ripped through his chest, tearing his heart and splitting his lungs. His entire body felt cold. He could not tell whether he was shivering from severe blood loss or because his heart itself had gone cold.
Countless figures could be seen moving around the pier, with vehicles constantly coming and going.
One of Yan Xiaodao’s hands suddenly moved. Startled, Mao Zhixiu tightened the gun against his temple. “Don’t move!” But Yan Xiaodao merely reached out and gripped the hard, rain-slick rock beside him. His five fingers seemed ready to dig directly into the cracks, the edges of his nails scraping rough marks into stone. His Adam’s apple bobbed constantly as he swallowed every scrap of pain back behind clenched teeth. At a moment like this, there was no possibility he would make a sound in front of Ling He.
The video preserved the most wretched and brutal moment of his entire life in full.
Ling He took back the phone, typed rapidly, sent the video, then looked at Yan Xiaodao. “I sent Master Qi a video of what you look like right now. Xiaodao, take a guess. Will your godfather put down the cricket jar in his hand, gather all his men, and rush here to rescue you?”
Yan Xiaodao drew a deep breath and steadied himself. “He knows you’ve set an ambush. He won’t come.”
Ling He frowned and shouted under his breath, “Exactly. He knew there was an ambush at Chaotou Reef tonight too, so he didn’t go. He sent you instead! That’s the godfather you pledged yourself to with such absolute loyalty. You put righteousness first. He specializes in screwing you over!”
Yan Xiaodao rasped, “Master Qi didn’t tell me to come. I chose to answer the appointment for him. I knew it had to be you.”
“…” Ling He genuinely felt the urge to pull out another knife and stab Xiaodao’s other foot. “Yan Xiaodao, you’re absolutely beyond teaching. You’re hopelessly obsessed!”
Yan Xiaodao did not bother arguing. He was neither beyond teaching nor blindly obsessed. He understood every reason and every principle involved and had spent many sleepless nights privately turning old events over in his mind. But having reached this point, a man in the jianghu often had no control over his own fate. He had no choice.
Sweat the size of soybeans gathered into streams and ran down the sculpted lines of Yan Xiaodao’s face. His lips were gray-white, yet his gaze remained hard and unwavering. “Ling He, can today end here? You’ve cut me. Treat it as taking your anger toward Master Qi out on me. Let everything end here.”
Ling He stared at him in astonishment. “…”
Clenching his teeth, Yan Xiaodao spoke from the heart. “Master Qi has too many people under him. He isn’t an idiot like You Jinglian or Watanabe Yangshan. He’s shrewd. Don’t provoke him… If you still haven’t vented enough, cut me a few more times. Do whatever you want. Today I’ll take it all for him. Stop now. Leave this place. Go back wherever you came from…”
Yan Xiaodao understood perfectly well that whatever had existed between him and Ling He was over. They could no longer face each other, much less be together. The final scrap of hope he had ever held for a “future” had become nothing more than a beautiful illusion, a flower reflected in a mirror, the moon reflected in water. His last wish, if something so extravagant could still be called a wish, was simply not to see the two sides destroy each other.
Ling He suddenly rose to his feet atop the black reef, closer to the sky there, as if he could reach up and tear apart the clouds blocking the moon overhead. In that moment Ling He was furious and grief-stricken, tormented by wanting something no matter how desperately he sought it and still being unable to obtain it. Looking down at Xiaodao’s face, he said, “Yan Xiaodao, I’ll tell you the truth. Qi Baoshan has definitely already seen you lying here covered in blood, weak and helpless, ready to be hacked apart at any moment. He knows I did this. He will not come save you. He absolutely will not show himself tonight!
“Yan Xiaodao, don’t you understand yet? Qi Baoshan decided long ago that in this game he would cut off his own arm to survive and abandon the sinking ship. To him, you’re nothing more than a tail he can sever whenever necessary, a leaking boat he can scuttle and discard at any time. He no longer trusts you wholeheartedly or relies on you. His suspicion and fear of you have already worn away whatever fragile scrap of father-son affection remained between you. Your life will never matter to him as much as his own!”
“Your godfather will not come rescue you. He would rather stand by and watch you bleed to death in an enemy’s hands. Yan Xiaodao, today I’m going to make you understand that Qi Baoshan cannot be relied on, and that the choice you made back then was wrong. I’m going to make you understand whether you should follow him or follow me!”
……
Mao Zhixiu wiped sweat from her brow and watched coldly as the two men’s emotions shot toward opposite extremes with no possibility of dragging either one back. She shook her head helplessly.
This was what people meant when they said those inside the situation were blind to it. It did not matter how clearheaded the observer was. Eight horses together could not drag these two away from cutting each other to pieces.
Mao Zhixiu desperately wanted to complain. Mr. Ling, you’ve been clever your whole life, but one word, “love,” has made you stupid, and you might spend the rest of your life trapped in this ridiculous, arrogant loop. Anyone with eyes can see that you’re sincere about Mr. Yan and that he’s the only one you want. But look at what you did tonight! You crippled Yan Xiaodao’s foot. If his tendon really is severed, then even if he can’t stay with Master Qi later, do you seriously think he’ll happily stay with you? What a catastrophically stupid move!
Men. Stupid brains, terrible emotional intelligence, convinced they’re clever and extraordinary… Thank heavens I’ve never fallen for one of the smelly bastards.
The minute and second hands crawled forward. It was the longest hour Yan Xiaodao had ever lived through.
The needle-like pain in his ribs and ankle gradually faded, or rather, spread outward until it covered his entire body and numbed his senses. Even his Ren and Du meridians felt blocked. Halfway through, the outwardly cool but inwardly soft Mao Zhixiu quietly sprinkled a packet of fast-acting hemostatic powder over his foot without asking her master’s permission. Ling He pretended not to see and did nothing to stop her.
Elio’s Notes: The Ren and Du vessels are two major channels in traditional Chinese medicine and internal-martial-arts theory. Here the narration uses them jokingly to say Yan feels completely blocked up and numb from pain.
Qi Baoshan indeed did not call back.
As for Master Qi, he had already realized something was wrong when he could not reach Yan Xiaodao’s phone. Naturally, Qi Baoshan was not leisurely sitting in his living room playing with crickets. He had spread his men throughout the area and divided them into several groups to search quietly around the harbor, keeping everything discreet so as not to alert anyone.
The tragic blaze towering over the pier, combined with reports from his informants, left Qi Baoshan stunned and speechless for a time.
The You father and son were finished.
Qi Baoshan had always looked down on the man surnamed You. You Jinglian was outwardly fierce but inwardly weak, and his conscience was thoroughly rotten. Over the years he had committed too many contemptible acts, causing the two of them to drift farther and farther apart until whatever loyalty and righteousness once existed between them was gone. What Qi Baoshan despised most was that You Jinglian, in pursuit of promotion and wealth, had once approached and entered that filthy circle of bestial desire, trading innocent young men for advancement. It was appalling.
But when the nest was overturned, how could any egg remain whole? When the lips were gone, the teeth grew cold.
Qi Baoshan stayed hidden inside a car one street away, watching the chaotic rescue operation at Linwan Pier 5. He saw several people half-carry, half-drag You Jinglian out before shoving him into an ambulance.
For one instant You Jinglian suddenly raised his head and stared in Qi Baoshan’s direction. Even through the car window in the darkness, Qi Baoshan’s eyelid twitched. He thought You Jinglian had spotted him, thought he was about to confess everything to the police and overturn every chess piece on the board. But You Jinglian’s eyes were empty. His lifeless gaze slid across Qi Baoshan’s car, then across the bustling traffic and crowds before him, blind to all worldly wealth, splendor, joy, and grief. It was as though his soul had already flown from the crown of his head and transcended into immortality. The golden-millet dream had finally dissolved into a handful of dust scattered by the wind. He had at last attained complete enlightenment and purified all six senses, but if he had known where everything would end, why had he begun?
Qi Baoshan lowered his head and read Ling He’s messages while watching the video he had sent. Frame after frame of blood reflected in his eyes, leaving his expression heavy with shock. Too many things had happened tonight. Ling He had struck him with one move after another until even Qi Baoshan was beginning to feel numb.
Ling He had written: 【Respectfully asking Master Qi for advice. Under the present circumstances, which part of Yan Xiaodao should I cut off?】
Qi Baoshan closed his eyes in pain and replied: 【My useless son has troubled Young Mr. Ling. Cut whichever piece you like.】
His fingers trembled as he sent it. He had raised Xiaodao all these years, and even he had never injured him this badly.
Ling He replied: 【In that case, I’ll cut Yan Xiaodao into pieces and accept him with pleasure. Thank you, Master Qi, for so generously giving up what you treasure.】
Qi Baoshan stared at those tiny characters until he nearly ground his teeth apart. He answered coldly: 【A fire at the pier tonight has destroyed a family and killed people. An impressive piece of work, Young Mr. Ling. You had better look after yourself.】
Qi Baoshan understood that if he did not appear tonight, he could not rescue Xiaodao, but if he did appear, he would inevitably fall into chaos. Ling He was using Xiaodao as bait, provoking him into entering the trap. More importantly, Ling He remained a living witness to certain cases from years ago and could walk into a police station at any time and accuse him. That was what constrained Qi Baoshan most severely, forcing him back again and again until there was nowhere left to retreat.
“For now, I can only let you suffer, Xiaodao,” Qi Baoshan murmured. “I won’t give you up this easily. I can’t bear to. I’ll still take you back.”
He truly could not bear it. He was unwilling to let so many years of father-son affection disappear into smoke. Ling He was too ruthless. He did not merely intend to send Qi Baoshan to prison and make him answer to the law. He intended to cut away his roots so thoroughly that even after Qi Baoshan was executed, no one would remain to collect his body or sweep his grave.
Ling He casually read Qi Baoshan’s replies aloud to Yan Xiaodao.
Yan Xiaodao bit his lip and said nothing. He knew that tonight he had been trapped alone on a dead-end road. No one was coming to save him.
Ling He closed his phone just as the alarm on his watch struck the nerves that had already been tormented for so long. Mao Zhixiu lifted her chin and quickly signaled the others. Several men crouched and pried the blade loose from the crack in the rock. But it still pierced straight through Yan Xiaodao’s foot, and nobody dared remove it casually. They intended to carry him away together with the blade and treat the wound elsewhere.
Ling He bent down and wrapped an arm around Yan Xiaodao’s shoulders. “Xiaodao, don’t worry. Now it’s finally my turn to take care of you.
“You like chasing after me so much, following me everywhere, never taking your eyes off me for even a moment. Fine. I’ll simply take you with me. We don’t have to separate anymore.
“Haven’t you always wanted me to carry you? We agreed before. Once my legs worked again, I’d carry you every day.”
……