The Man Who Was Buried Alive by Me

Chapter 13

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There was no response, so he rubbed again, and then touched Bai Sheng's arm with his elbow.

The other party subconsciously hid, then folded his arms and peeked at him secretly with one eye exposed.

Ling Chennan smiled at him, and said softly: "Hi~"

Bai Cheng blinked his eyelashes, and both eyes were exposed to look at him, showing a confused and bewildered expression. Ling Chennan said, "Isn't it cold against the wall?"

Bai Sheng moved his nose, but still kept his mouth tightly shut, picking at the hem of his pants with his fingers.

Ling Chennan stretched out his hand tentatively, but the other party didn't hide, so he covered his cold knuckles, unwrapped his tangled fingers one by one, and held his hand to help him stand up.

Although Bai Sheng hesitated, he obediently pulled him to stand up, followed him back to his seat.

"Want to drink water?" Ling Chennan asked.

The other party shook his head.

The alarm bell for the end of the treatment rang, Ling Chennan wanted to turn it off, but Bai Sheng pulled him back, as if he would cry if he let go.

Ling Chennan raised his eyebrows—he had never seen Bai Sheng like this, not even when he first met. At that time, although Bai Sheng was weak, he was subconsciously alienated from him. At this moment, he is not only timid, but also seems to be... Clingy.

"I'm going to turn off the alarm clock," Ling Chennan explained, but the other party still didn't let go, and even shook both hands.

Ling Chennan tried to read the expression on his face, and asked again: "Then... you go there with me?"

Bai Sheng raised his face and blinked his eyes, as if agreeing.

So Ling Chennan led him back to his desk, turned off the alarm, and clumsily packed up his documents and notebooks with one hand. During the whole process, Bai Sheng held his hands tightly and stuck to him step by step. He was carrying his back lightly, his steps were very small, his knees were slightly bent a little bit inward, it was a body language that Ling Chennan had never seen on him.

This is very strange, Ling Chennan thought, the condition must not have deteriorated, could it have reached this level with just one phone call from Shen Yinchuan

"Bai Sheng? Are you okay?" Ling Chennan asked: "It's time to get off work, today... you won't be playing ball?"

Bai Sheng stared at the ground without any response, as if he didn't hear him, Ling Chennan moved his fingers and said, "Can you let go? I'll call to cancel the appointment."

Bai Cheng raised his head and glanced at him quickly, but let go of his fingers, but wrapped his arms around his waist, and buried his face into his neck.

Ling Chennan was suddenly embraced and froze.

Ling Chennan: "Bai Sheng... Bai Sheng?"

No matter what he said, Bai Sheng didn't respond. Ling Chennan could only make a phone call to the gym because of this subtle gesture. After hanging up the phone, he was deadlocked for a while, and he suggested helplessly, "Otherwise... you should hold my hand, I can't move like you, pull my left hand."

Bai Cheng raised his face from his neck, breathing softly on his cheeks and ears, as if making a decision, then let go of his arms and reached out to hold him.

Fortunately, the people in the office had already left, otherwise Ling Chennan really didn't know how to explain the scene of the two of them leaving holding hands. After he got off the elevator and walked into the underground parking garage with Bai Sheng, he encountered another difficulty.

Ling Chennan: "Bai Sheng, I can't drive because of you."

Not only did the other party refuse to let go, but when he saw that he was about to withdraw his hand, he immediately panicked, his mouth was pursed, and his eyes were filled with shiny things within three seconds.

Ling Chennan was stunned by this sudden scene of a beauty crying.

"Bai, Bai Sheng, I'm not leaving, I, I'm going to take you home." For so many years as a psychiatrist, Ling Chennan stuttered to a patient for the first time, and he led him around to the passenger seat to open the car door He stuffed it in, fastened his seat belt, pulled out his fingers little by little, and stroked along his shoulder, as if he was comforting a child or a frightened cat.

Ling Chennan ran back to the driver's seat, his heart still shaken, he turned his head and asked, "Tell me your address again."

The other party still ignored him, holding his seat belt and weeping silently, looking sad and frightened.

Ling Chennan had no choice but to look through his navigation records, and finally found the address that Bai Sheng entered a few weeks ago, he pulled the handbrake and stepped on the accelerator.

The streets at night were covered with scarlet taillights, and a thin layer of wet fog gradually covered the car windows. Holding the steering wheel, Ling Chennan had already calmed down, turning his mind over and over again. Along the way, he tried every means to talk to Bai Sheng, but the other party didn't open his mouth after exhausting countermeasures, although he stopped crying anyway.

Counting the traffic jam, the whole journey only took half an hour. He parked the car downstairs at Bai Sheng's house, unfastened the seat belt for the other party, and pulled him out from the co-pilot.

Ling Chennan asked a little hopelessly: "Which floor?"

As the elevator door said, it suddenly opened, Bai Sheng hid behind him, and a mother with a child walked out, Ling Chennan put his hands behind his back and smiled at her. The other party was stunned for a moment, then nodded at him, and walked out of the unit building after only one more look at them.

Ling Chennan hurriedly led Bai Sheng into the elevator, and asked again: "What floor?"

Bai Sheng rolled his eyes, and pressed the floor with his free hand.

Ling Chennan asked again: "Why didn't you talk to me?"

Bai Cheng looked at him, bit his lip and shook his head.

Ling Chennan: "Do you not want to say it, or do you not know what to say?"

Bai Sheng still shook his head.

Ling Chennan asked: "Neither of them?"

Bai Cheng pointed to his mouth and shook his head again.

Ling Chennan raised his eyebrows in disbelief: "Can't say? Why."

When the elevator arrived, Bai Sheng led him to the door on the far left, staring at the door in a daze.

Ling Chennan asked: "The key?"

This time he didn't wait too long, he just reached out and rummaged in Bai Sheng's jacket and trouser pockets, took out the keys, tried them one by one, and successfully opened the door and walked in.

After entering the house, Bai Sheng seemed to relax a bit, Ling Chennan took the opportunity to let go, and the other party immediately ran to a small sofa in the corner of the living room and sat on the carpet behind the coffee table, hugging a big yellow cushion beside him and buried his face in it to hide.

It's so strange, Ling Chennan thought, it's like picking up a wild cat that can't speak.

"Drink water, Bai Sheng? Do you want to order takeaway for you?" There were no answers to all the questions, and Ling Chennan had no choice but to say, "Then... Shall I go?"

He walked up to Bai Sheng's side, stroked his hair lightly, thought for a while, then helped him close the curtains, turned up the heating temperature, and repeated: "Then I'm leaving?"

As the only person in the room who spoke, Ling Chennan didn't know whether he was speaking to Bai Sheng or to himself.

He knew that he had devoted too much energy and time to Bai Sheng, and no matter how much he brainwashed himself into saying that it was because of Bai Sheng's serious condition, he had never done this to any other patient.

Take him to eat, play sports with him, and send him home.

Standing up and taking his coat, Ling Chennan took another look at the apartment—it was deserted, with very little furniture, and there was no trace of fireworks.

He gave up and put down his coat again, went to the kitchen to boil hot water, and took down the delivery list posted on the refrigerator to read.

Order takeaway and leave, Ling Chennan thought, no, leave when the takeaway arrives.

Holding the takeaway list, he walked slowly back to the living room while making a phone call, and casually glanced at the half-open bedroom door next to him.

"Hello? Hello, hello? Hello?" An inquiry from the food delivery company rang through the receiver, but Ling Chennan opened his mouth and couldn't say a word.

He held the phone up, his elbows completely frozen, although the person on the other end of the line had already hung up because he couldn't get a response.

Ling Chennan walked to the door of the bedroom, pushed lightly, and the half-closed door opened without hindrance.

The hallway lights turn on in a yellow triangle on the bedroom floor.

There was only one bed and one table in the bedroom, and the wall facing the bed was covered with a whole page of large and small photos, notes, notes, and invoices. The photos were taken during the day or at night, and the backgrounds were indoors or outdoors. The only thing in common is that the only protagonist of the photos is unaware of the photographer's lens.

With trembling hands, Ling Chennan took a step forward with weak knees, staring at what should be the latest photo in front of him — it was himself getting out of the taxi after having dinner with his friends last night.

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1. CP is naturally a doctor and a patient, and the problem of attack and suffering has not been thought through;

2. If there is another update in the evening, otherwise it will be updated tomorrow morning. The content of this chapter (night) is not over yet.

[Eighth Week·Night 2]

Photos of myself joking with my friends in a restaurant, photos of myself swiping my phone while waiting for someone to be bored, photos of myself crossing an overpass with a wooden face not far from the clinic, photos of myself buying instant noodles while stepping on slippers at a canteen near my home... not just In the last two months, he was still wearing short sleeves and sunglasses in some photos. These recorded images transitioned to the street where the leaves were all gone, until the road was covered with residual snow.

A whole wall of content, not just photos.

Ling Chennan recognized the online pictures of himself participating in psychological lectures in colleges and universities, the content of his blog post that has been abandoned for several years, and the small articles on psychology popularization that he wrote in related forums with his not real name. The thread is posted on the wall.

Not only that, but more.

He recognized the restaurant invoice when he and Bai Sheng went out to eat for the second time, and the clothes that Bai Sheng "forgot" to return to him many times, all neatly mounted in a glass frame.

There are also countless sheets of Bai Sheng's notes, all of which are his own schedule, what time of the month, what time to go out, what to wear, what to eat, what time to go home, pasted under the relevant photos.

Ling Chennan's fingertips were numb, and he didn't know for a while