I Need a Gangsta to Love Me Betta

Chapter Seven

A week had passed, but for Wei Qian, time had lost all meaning.

Each day blended into the next, a numbing haze of white walls, antiseptic smells, and the constant, dull ache radiating from his back. The whipping had left scars deeper than flesh, each movement a reminder of the punishment he'd endured, of the choices and loyalties that had twisted into a mess he could no longer untangle.

Each movement tugged at the raw wounds on his back, each shallow breath reigniting a burning ache that seemed to embed itself into his very bones. But it was more than just the physical pain—there was a weight pressing down on him, a heaviness that had settled over his mind, blurring the edges of every thought, every emotion.

Wei Qian lay on the thin hospital bed, staring at the blank, white ceiling above him, trying to ignore the throbbing that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat.

He was tired of this room, of the sterile smell, the muffled sounds of medical equipment, the voices of doctors and nurses that drifted in and out without meaning.

The door opened, and he didn't bother to look.

He already knew it was Xiao Yuan, knew he would sit quietly beside him, and knew he would wait, his remorse and presence filling the silence. But even that—the push, the pull, the ever-present weight of Xiao Yuan—had begun to wear him down, thread by thread.

He didn't have the energy to turn, to meet those eyes full of emotions and thoughts he didn't want to fathom anymore.

The past, the present, the promises once made and broken—they all blurred together now, nothing more than a weight pressing down on him, making each breath feel like an effort he could barely muster.

He was so tired.

Each memory, each moment they'd shared, good and bad, played like a film reel in his mind. The weight of it all was suffocating, a constant reminder of the struggles they'd endured.

No matter how hard he tried to move forward, to find some semblance of peace, the cycle seemed never-ending, a trap he could never escape.

And now, lying here, his body battered and his spirit frayed, he knew that he couldn't keep doing this.

The anger, the loyalty, the lingering feelings—it was all tangled up in a web that had drained him, stripped him down until there was nothing left but exhaustion and the hollow ache of something he no longer had the strength to hold onto. Hope had left him bruised and bloodied and now, he could only muster enough strength to wonder why- why him? Why Xiao Yuan? Why now?

"Back again?" Wei Qian muttered, his voice flat, tired, devoid of the fire he'd once used to mask his pain. "Don't you have anywhere else to be?"

"Nowhere else."

"Why?"

Xiao Yuan did not speak as he took his seat at the chair beside him.

"Why do you keep coming back, Xiao Yuan? Is it pity? Or have you come to gloat?"

Xiao Yuan's expression didn't falter, though his hands shifted, clasping and unclasping as if searching for an anchor.

"It is neither."

Wei Qian let out a harsh laugh, raw and humourless before it turned into a pained moan.

Damn it, everything in him hurts. Even the sight of this deranged, beautiful man hurts.

Seeming to notice the pain wracking his body, the lines in Xiao Yuan's forehead creased with worry as he reached to touch Wei Qian's shoulder.

"Hey. You okay?"