018 Blood Dripping on the Thorns

The season has fled, leaving only its shadow in its wake. Beneath the neon - lit tree, there's no space for a single weary thought. It's as if the distant horizon is but a stone's throw away. Carrying long - pent - up emotions on this journey, in the time it takes to smoke a single cigarette, his gaze grows dim and wanders like a lost vagabond.

Night descends like a ravenous monster, baring its dark fangs and devouring every nook and cranny of the world.

In a white building within a certain military region, the light by the window struggles valiantly against the boundless darkness.

A Kang's heart is weighed down by heaviness, desolation, and the suffocating oppression of darkness. The emotions beyond his control seem predestined, sacrificed, and mercilessly destroyed.

He strides to the wine cabinet, yanks out the whiskey, and pours a generous glass. Without a single ice cube, he takes a huge gulp. The cold liquid slides down his throat like a sharp knife, searing his stomach with a burning pain that rages like an inferno.

Thinking of the day's events, the corners of his eyes turn a dark, angry red. He pours another glass, walks to the window, and stares at the pitch - black night sky. It seems an impending downpour is on the way. He swirls the glass in his hand, his gaze far - reaching, as if he yearns to pierce through this vast darkness and catch a glimmer of light.

There's a thorn lodged deep in his heart, piercing into his very flesh and blood. But when was this accursed thorn sown?

Maybe it was the moment his heart first sang gently, touched by that unprecedented passion. That's when the seed quietly took root.

Their first night, though hasty, was a thing of beauty. Their bodies were intertwined like vines, and their souls nestled together. He was her first man.

On that exquisitely lingering night, he tenderly called her "Little Darling", and she sweetly called him "Hao Hao".

He felt as if he'd ascended to the clouds.

But on that very night, another man died because of their bliss.

He plummeted from heaven to hell.

When he saw her holding another man's hand and walking away without a backward glance, he smashed the glass on the table. The shards scattered on the ground, just like his shattered heart.

The thorn began to grow, stretching its first tendril across his heart and stabbing him brutally.

She lost her smile, and even the initial one was no longer for him. He hugged her and sobbed, "Ming Xichen, you're mine. How could you do this? You're so cruel."

She neither smiled nor cried but uttered vicious words: "Death is the truth. Our youth will perish in the memorial, and our love will be buried with it."

There was a new life growing in her belly, but she deliberately fell down the stairs. When he held her, the large patches of blood on her white skirt were like the gaping maws of blood - red man - eating flowers, devouring his soul.

The thorn grew rapidly. He could hear the sickening creak of its thorns piercing into his flesh.

She left. That city, once a paradise, now held the soul of the man she loved deeply. They could be in harmony in spirit.

She left him all alone. He spent days staring at her photos, searching for her scent on the clothes she left behind. He quietly leaned against the window until twilight fell. Then, with a flick of his finger, he made a decision.

His father said a good man should shed his blood on the battlefield. Although it was a peaceful era, he should still have an unyielding backbone. So he joined the army. Two years later, he entered the special forces. Later, he went to an organization abroad, a place ordinary people could never reach, and took on impossible tasks. He had no time to ponder life, death, or pain. He always yearned to finish all the tasks as quickly as possible and stand before her in the best possible way.

It wasn't a long time, just eight years. When he returned in glory, she was on another man's arm, smiling sweetly.

She had blossomed into a breathtaking beauty, a flower with an overbearing charm, cold and noble. Her beauty stabbed his eyes painfully, for it was not for him, not meant to brighten his world.

Imagining how she would be with that man, how she would lie beneath him... He closed his eyes to stop the thoughts, but the thorn wound around his heart again and again. The pain was like a wildfire, and he couldn't stop the negative thoughts from swirling in his mind.

When he kissed her, the restless thorn calmed. The heat and pain subsided, and an inexplicable joy and expectation welled up.

But she actually pushed him away for that man. The faint hope was shattered. He gritted his teeth and told her he wouldn't give her any more time.

Waiting. He had never waited for anyone in his life. All his time had been spent waiting for her.

He sat quietly on the chair, his face as calm as a still lake. But the uneasiness, anger, and worry in his chest grew with each passing moment, almost making him unable to sit still.

Damn it! Why should he bear all this?

A heat coursed through his body, making him desperate to see her, hug her, kiss her, and pour this heat into her body so she could feel it with him.

Didn't she say yesterday that she needed some time? But what was she doing? What were they doing? When he went up to find her, she was gone. But in front of that man's door, he saw them locked in a passionate embrace and kiss, so lost in each other that they didn't even notice his presence.

The thorn roared and grew wildly like a demonic beast. Thousands of thorns coiled around his heart tightly, squeezing until his flesh and blood were in disarray. If he stayed one more moment, he would crumple in pain in front of everyone.

He turned around calmly and left, looking as normal as ever. The calmer he was, the more mistakes he made. His foot accidentally kicked a potted plant beside the door. The noise alerted her, and she ran out.

She looked at him with a look he couldn't decipher. Was it sadness, heartache, apology, or guilt? He didn't care.

He grabbed her, slammed her body against the door behind her, and roughly lifted her skirt with his large hand. Fine! If she had no heart, then so be it! Let him no longer suppress himself and possess her body recklessly! Even if she hated and resented him for the rest of her life, as long as he could keep her by his side, it would be worth it.

Her eyes were panicked. This seemed to fuel the thorn, which danced even more wildly, with blood dripping from it.

Pain.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. It didn't matter. Even if her good impression and trust in him would vanish completely after this, even if he would be tortured by the crazy thorn in his heart forever, at least he had her body.

He seemed to be driven mad by her, doing something irrational. She raised her hand and slapped him hard. The sound rang out clearly and echoed into the distance.

The stinging pain sobered him instantly. What was he doing? The three words "I'm sorry" were on the tip of his tongue but refused to come out. These words were too weak, as weak as his will. How could he lose control in an instant? After years of training, he shouldn't be like this. But meeting her was his downfall.

She clung desperately to the door, preventing the person inside from coming out. She didn't want Chu Rui to see her in such a mess, and she didn't want them to confront each other.

He regained his cold composure and said in a tone devoid of warmth, "I just came to check. The five - day deadline will soon be up. I'm looking forward to it."

He turned around and left, as if nothing had happened.

Actually, when she said she was in pain, his heart ached even more. He placed his hand on his chest and finally realized that the thorn was there, always there. Only her love could uproot it. Otherwise, the more he got, the more sensitive it would become.

With just a gentle touch, it would turn into a catastrophic flood.