Chapter 141: Cold, Crazy School Prince x Delicate, Spoiled Little Brat (47)
Jiang Luoluo’s fingers tightened around Mu Jianian’s sleeve.
His soft voice, like that of an injured kitten, strained to stay awake, his eyes filled with longing as he called Mu Jianian’s name in a tearful whisper:
“Mu Jianian…”
Mu Jianian hummed in response, gently wiping the dirt from Jiang Luoluo’s face with a mixture of tenderness and pity.
The person in his arms let out a couple of sobs, his voice small: “It hurts so much…”
Mu Jianian brushed aside Jiang Luoluo’s hair to examine the wound on his forehead, soothing him: “It’s not serious. It’ll heal quickly.”
Jiang Luoluo nodded obediently, a hint of grievance in his voice as he counted off his injuries like a child tattling to an adult:
“My arm hurts too, and my back, and my waist…”
“Only my leg doesn’t hurt…”
Mu Jianian’s expression froze, his gaze falling to Jiang Luoluo’s leg.
Just minutes earlier, he had pushed a rock away from that spot.
Where Jiang Luoluo couldn’t see, he had secretly pinched Jiang Luoluo’s leg.
The other boy continued speaking softly, oblivious: “I’m so cold, Mu Jianian…”
Mu Jianian’s eyes were bloodshot as he pulled the person into his arms again. “It’ll be okay soon, Husband will call them, and we’ll bring our baby home soon…”
The phone screen lit up, and Mu Jianian’s heart turned to ice once more.
No signal.
The person in his arms slowly lost consciousness, sometimes calling him “Husband,” sometimes “Mu Jianian.”
Their words became jumbled and incoherent.
“Mu Jianian, I’ve been so good. I even finished my homework today…”
“Will you smile at me if I turn in my homework, Mu Jianian…?”
“Jiang Wanwan is so annoying. I hate the way he talks to you…”
“You promised we’d live together in college…”
“Mu Jianian, where did you go? I miss you so much…”
“I’ve put away all your books. Please come back to school…”
“Do you hate me…?”
The person in his arms sobbed quietly, their small head pressed against his chest, arms swaying with his movements.
“Does your head hurt a lot, Mu Jianian…?”
“Do you hate me so much, Mu Jianian…?”
Mu Jianian stopped walking and looked intently at the person in his arms.
“Look at me, baby.”
“I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
Mu Jianian’s nose stung as he lowered his gaze.
“Every minute, every second, I love you.”
“If I weren’t afraid of upsetting you, I would have stormed your house long ago, snatched you back, and locked you in the villa.”
“Or maybe just stolen you away.”
Jiang Luoluo wrapped his arms around Mu Jianian’s neck, resting his small head on Mu Jianian’s shoulder, and murmured a soft “Oh.”
Even with his mind clouded, he remembered the girl’s words from earlier.
In a small voice, he asked, “Mu Jianian, now that we’re divorced, will you let someone else live in our room?”
Mu Jianian’s voice remained calm. “No.”
“Then will you marry someone else?”
“No.”
“Even if I never forgive you and never make up with you, you still won’t marry anyone else?”
“I won’t.”
Mu Jianian lifted him higher in his arms, adding, “I won’t marry anyone but you.”
“Even if I die, you still won’t marry anyone else?”
“Never. If you’re alive, your husband will protect you. If you’re gone, your husband will stay with you.”
“That divorce agreement means nothing to me.”
“In my heart, you’ll always be my wife.”
“Forever.”
The person in his arms hummed in response, a hint of excitement in their voice.
The small head nestled against Mu Jianian’s neck, rubbing against him affectionately.
The mountain path was rugged and seemed endless.
When Mu Jianian had come looking for Jiang Luoluo, he had walked downhill. Now, following the same path back, he was climbing uphill, surrounded by jagged, menacing rocks that seemed to glare at him with every step.
Xiao Mountain had rained the previous day. The rainwater had trickled down the slopes, leaving the upper slopes half-dry while the base remained muddy and treacherous.
Night dew had settled, and the temperature had dropped again.
Crystal-clear dewdrops clung to the leaves of plants and trees. Mu Jianian’s coat was wrapped tightly around Jiang Luoluo, leaving him in only a thin shirt. The lower half of his pants were soaked with dew, chilled by the mountain night’s cold.
The person in his arms had fallen asleep, nestled obediently against his shoulder. Or perhaps he was delirious from the fever, occasionally murmuring “Husband” before falling silent again.
Relying on his memory of the way he had come, Mu Jianian continued his trek back.
His phone was tucked in his pocket, so he didn’t know the exact time, but the sky had already shifted from deep black to a pale, fish-belly white streaked across the horizon.
A night had passed.
A few streaks of morning light filtered through the dense forest canopy, illuminating the ground and the figure moving through the woods.
“President Mu!”
“President Mu is here!”
“Get the car over here quickly!”
Li Chuan’s sharp eyes spotted the small figure Mu Jianian was carrying and shouted, “Luo Luo!”
He rushed forward to help, but Mu Jianian shifted his body, evading Li Chuan’s attempt.
A faint frown creased the space between Mu Jianian’s prominent brow bones as he carried the person in his arms toward the car.
Someone quickly opened the car door. Mu Jianian bent down, removed the coat draped over his shoulders, and carefully placed the person inside.
Their usually impeccably dressed President Mu stood there, his thin clothes damp with dew, mud staining his body and legs from a fall. A deep gash on his arm, where blood mingled with dirt, made the wound look particularly gruesome.
Yet the person he cradled so protectively in his arms slept peacefully, their face serene and utterly clean.
City Hospital.
Mother Jiang’s eyes were swollen from crying as she clutched Jiang Luoluo’s hand, her shoulders trembling with sobs.
Father Jiang stood beside her, his face grim.
Mu Jianian had only changed into clean clothes, his sleeves rolled up as he allowed the doctor to tend to his wounds.
On the hospital bed, Jiang Luoluo lay quietly sleeping, an IV drip inserted into his wrist, two bags of fluid hanging above him. An oxygen mask covered half his delicate face, his eyes tightly shut, long lashes resting against his lower eyelids. A bandage marked his forehead.
He looked utterly vulnerable.
The doctor said they were fortunate to have gotten him here in time.
Otherwise, either the high fever or the rock lodged in his leg could have led to dire consequences:
Dementia, permanent disability, or even death.
Mu Jianian’s eyes were red as he gazed silently at the person on the bed for a long, long time.
“Dad, Mom, I can’t divorce him anymore.”
Mother and Father Jiang looked up.
Mu Jianian lowered his gaze, holding Jiang Luoluo’s hand.
“He wanted freedom, and I tried to give it to him. I stopped bothering him, stayed out of his sight, and avoided upsetting him.”
“But he almost lost his life.”
Mu Jianian’s throat tightened with emotion as he gripped Jiang Luoluo’s fingers.
“This time, whether he hates me or resents me, I won’t let him go.”
Mother Jiang reached out and patted the back of his hand gently. “He loves you,” she murmured.
Mu Jianian froze.
Mother Jiang continued softly, “Nian Nian, he’s always loved you.”
Three days later.
Jiang Luoluo sat on the hospital bed, propping up his small face with his hands as he stared at his lunch, his expression clearly displeased.
Father Jiang, his face dark with annoyance, snapped, “You won’t eat this, you won’t eat that! How old are you? Stop being so picky, Jiang Luoluo!”
Undeterred by being called by his full name, Jiang Luoluo replied in a soft voice, “But it really does taste awful!”
Father Jiang: “Awful? Do you even know that in some countries—”
Jiang Luoluo, still propping up his face, mimicked his father’s tone like a little parrot: “—in some countries, people don’t even have food to eat! Children your age are eating dirt and tree bark! You have it so good here, you should appreciate it!”
A low chuckle came from outside the door.
Hearing the laugh, Jiang Luoluo turned to see Mu Jianian standing there. Dressed casually, his eyes crinkled with a smile as he gazed intently at Jiang Luoluo.
Jiang Luoluo’s cheeks flushed pink. He silently turned back, lowering his long, curled lashes as his slender, pale fingers picked up the chopsticks and began eating obediently.
The stark contrast between his behavior in public and in private made Father Jiang want to laugh in exasperation.
Footsteps approached the door, and Mu Jianian began exchanging pleasantries with Father Jiang.
Even after signing the divorce agreement, Mu Jianian continued to address him as “Dad,” never changing his form of address.
Jiang Luoluo lowered his head, ears perked, secretly listening to their conversation.
“He’s been making a fuss, complaining the food is awful. You know he’s not fully recovered yet—he can’t eat junk food like he used to!”
“It’s all your fault and his mother’s for spoiling him! A grown man acting so delicate!”
“Besides, he’s not a three-year-old! He knows how to eat! Does he expect someone to chew his food for him?”
Mu Jianian smiled and called him “Dad” repeatedly, flattering Father Jiang until his anger subsided. The older man huffed, clasped his hands behind his back, and strode away.
With the door closing behind him, the hospital room fell into an even deeper silence.
Jiang Luoluo unconsciously poked at the bland, watery meal in front of him, his round, almond-shaped eyes darting around, stealing glances at Mu Jianian.
Mu Jianian sat down opposite him, his voice low and husky. “Is it good?”
Jiang Luoluo’s heart pounded wildly. He nodded mechanically, not even processing the question.
Mu Jianian raised an eyebrow. “Good?”
Jiang Luoluo finally snapped out of his daze, shaking his head vigorously, his head bobbing like a rattle drum. His voice was barely a whisper:
“Not good…”
Mu Jianian reached across the table, his slender, well-defined fingers gathering the untouched meal and tossing it into the trash can.
Jiang Luoluo tilted his head, feigning disappointment while secretly delighted. “Ah… no more food…”
Mu Jianian gazed at him with a knowing smile.
He saw through me again.
Jiang Luoluo’s cheeks flushed, his eyelashes fluttered rapidly, and his fingers curled into a tight fist. “I’ve been eating properly, but this is just too bland. It has no flavor at all…”
Mu Jianian opened the lunchbox he had brought with him.
Jiang Luoluo craned his neck.
A series of colorful, fragrant dishes were arranged before him. Mu Jianian handed him a pair of chopsticks, their gilded tips engraved with two small “L”s.
These were the chopsticks he used to use.
And this was food Mu Jianian had cooked himself.
No wonder Mu Jianian wasn’t there when he woke up this morning.
Jiang Luoluo took the chopsticks, blinking as he glanced at Mu Jianian’s arm.
He had heard that the wound on Mu Jianian’s arm was severe when he carried him back, but no matter how many times he asked, Mu Jianian refused to explain how he got hurt.
Mu Jianian was always like this.
He would do so much, pour so much effort into everything he did.
But when it came to his own sacrifices, he remained stubbornly silent.
“It’s healed now. I can still carry you.” Mu Jianian patted Jiang Luoluo’s head. “Can you eat by yourself?”
Jiang Luoluo looked up, his expression puzzled.
Mu Jianian gazed at him, his deep voice laced with seductive undertones:
“Want your husband to chew it up and feed you?”
