The Byoukidere Is Her Sweetie

Chapter 25: 025: Jiang Zhi finally added Xu Fang on WeChat

Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

“Brother Zhi,” Jiang Wei’er changed her sitting position, her face no longer the carefree expression she had earlier as she smoothed out her dress, “Let’s switch, anything else will do. This is inappropriate. Your aunt has a boyfriend.”

Her tone was somewhat conciliatory.

“No.”

Jiang Zhi, at his core, was a thoroughly bad person.

He taunted, “Can’t handle it, can you?”

Jiang Wei’er had a fatal weakness: she couldn’t be provoked. Once provoked, she’d explode.

She poured a glass of wine, drank it all in one go, set the glass down—

“Don’t bully Wei’er anymore.”

Xue Bingxue covered her mouth, her doe-like eyes fluttered as she tried to look at Jiang Wei’er, but then timidly dodged away, her ears turning red as she said, “Wei’er’s boyfriend will be upset with her.”

If Wei’er’s boyfriend got upset, Wei’er would be unhappy. If Wei’er was unhappy, he would be sad.

So, Xue Bingxue pressed her mouth shut firmly.

Xue Baoyi: “…”

What use was having a teammate like a god? They also had a teammate who was as useless as a pig. Even a stubborn bronze couldn’t be carried to victory by a king.

Thud.

The empty wine bottle was knocked over by Jiang Zhi, spinning halfway. The air stilled.

Xue Bingxue was still sneaking glances at Jiang Wei’er, afraid she’d be upset. If Jiang Zhi got upset… let him be upset, as long as Wei’er wasn’t.

This silly yet sweet girl!

Xue Baoyi couldn’t bear to watch anymore, stomped on him in exasperation, and cursed in a pinched voice, “Brother Zhi is helping you, you coward!”

Xue Bingxue was again afraid Jiang Wei’er would hear, so he glared at Xue Baoyi.

Xue Baoyi: “…”

This pig!

“Not playing anymore, this is boring.” Jiang Zhi picked up his phone and walked off.

Ah Wan went to grab a coat, hurried to follow, and as they looked from behind, they saw Jiang Zhi lowering his head, revealing a stretch of pale, smooth nape that begged to be touched. His profile was coated in a cold, white light reflected by his phone.

He was looking at his phone again.

Ah Wan couldn’t help it: “Has Miss Zhou not accepted the request yet?”

“Cough, cough, cough…”

Jiang Zhi coughed so hard his face turned red; he couldn’t even stand straight, leaning against the wall and clutching his chest. He turned back angrily: “None of your damn business.”

Ah Wan: “…” He shrank his neck, “Please calm down, don’t faint.”

“Cough, cough, cough…” He was coughing so hard it felt like his lungs were coming out, his eyes were rimmed with red, and his gaze shimmered, beautiful as peach blossoms. This appearance of falling ill… made Xue Baoyi’s heart ache to see.

Xue Bingxue hurried over to press on Jiang Zhi’s acupoints to stop the cough.

Ah Wan stood rooted to the spot, flustered and at a loss, terrified his employer would die young and leave behind a tragic beauty… Ah Wan wished he could cut his stomach open on the spot! Right! Now! To! Die!

“What’s up with Jiang Zhi tonight?” Qiao Nanchu, who had a flirtatious look, smiled roguishly, “Something’s not right.”

Because Ah Wan had made a mistake and was sent home. It was the Fifth Miss who took the employer home. He thought he had gone too far, his brain was dull, and he didn’t know what to say or what not to say. He wanted to make up for it by recalling how the employer liked the shrimp porridge at noon, so he quietly ordered another porridge for his employer.

At eight-thirty.

Jiang Zhi had just finished his bath when the phone in the security office rang.

“Mr. Jiang.”

He placed a hand on his stomach, his face ghostly pale, becoming whiter than his bathrobe, which emphasized his exposed neck: “What is it?”

“Did you order takeout? There’s a delivery here saying it’s your porridge.”

He spoke breathlessly in a low, hoarse voice, “I didn’t.”

With that, he hung up the phone.

Just then, Ah Wan’s WeChat message came in: “Boss, I know I did wrong. I got you some night snack, it’s the porridge you had at noon. I specially noted to add more shrimp. Lastly, wishing you good health and a long life.”

Jiang Zhi glanced at the message, threw the phone to the side, went to the bathroom to get a towel, and dried his hair, pausing mid-action, then went back to pick up the phone.

Damn, he was really sick…

He put on his coat, over the bathrobe, and coughed heavily as he ran out, irritably calling the security room.

“It’s my takeout.”

“No need, I’ll go down and get it myself.”

Three minutes later…

Outside the villa district, the delivery boy smiled and handed over the porridge: “Seven Villas Room 203, right? Here’s your takeout.”

Through the iron fence, Jiang Zhi, who wore a coat over his bathrobe, eyed him coldly.

The delivery boy was utterly confused. His gaze subconsciously fell on the dripping wet neck, the Adam’s apple, and finally on that exquisitely beautiful face carved out of marble, sculpted with no traces of the mundane world. His voice trembled: “You…your takeout, could you give a good review?”

A pale, slender, and well-defined hand took the bag: “Depends on my mood.”

“…”

The wind blew, chilling to the bone.

The delivery boy stood dazed in the wind, watching that slightly hunched back from the coughing, and despite wearing so many layers, how did he still look like his bone structure was beautiful?

The rumored beauty bones?

Bam—

The door slammed shut, and Jiang Zhi, with a gloomy face, threw the takeout into the trash.

“Cough, cough, cough…”

He felt intense pain in his body, had taken an extra pill during the day, and a metallic taste rose in his throat. With winter coming, his body was also in a terrible mess.

Moving slowly, he held onto a chair, sat down at the dining table, and poured himself a cup of warm water.

“Ding.”

The phone suddenly pinged.

The cup fell back onto the table, and he hesitated momentarily, then picked up the phone.

Zhou Xufang’s three words hit his sight, the avatar a black smudge like the night, and there was a line in the chat: I accepted your friend request. Now we can start chatting.

And then…

No movement.

Jiang Zhi stared at the phone in a daze for a while, gulped down the cup of warm water, feeling a bit better in his belly. Just a short trip outside made him sweat coldly all over. He threw the phone aside, went to the bathroom to take another bath, returned, and saw only that one message on WeChat.

Water dripped from his hair onto the carpet as he stood there, staring at the phone.

Zhou Xufang.

Muttering the name, he frowned, resigned, and picked up the phone.

“Why didn’t you go deliver takeout?”

After waiting for over ten seconds.

Zhou Xufang replied: “I got off work.” She wasn’t typing quickly either, waiting a few more seconds, “Is there something you need?”

Was there something he needed?

How would he know, he thought about it all day and couldn’t figure out why. Why would a genuinely gay man suddenly become endlessly curious about a woman, possibly because of prolonged abstinence?

Then again, how long had it been since he’d had those kinds of dreams?

He replied with two words: “Nothing.”

Zhou Xufang sent a period.

“What do you mean by sending a period?”

The ‘typing’ indicator showed for a long time, before a moderately long text appeared: “I have OCD. It has to be me who ends the conversation. If there’s nothing to say, I’ll send a punctuation mark.”

Jiang Zhi: “…”

This person, why always cause problems for him.

His finger pad turned slightly red as he tapped the screen: “No words to chat?”

It took a while again.

Zhou Xufang replied: “No.”

“Don’t argue.”

“.”

No words meant she’d send punctuation marks. Still, she had to be the one to end the conversation.

Jiang Zhi threw the phone aside, couldn’t stop himself, grabbed a box of cough medicine, took two pills, tilted his head back to swallow them, then poured half a cup of warm water to drink, licked his lips, and his Adam’s apple rolled—it was really damn bitter.

The box of marshmallows was on the dining table. He threw one into his mouth and picked up his phone.

“Zhou Xufang.”

“Mm.”

“Zhou Xufang.”

“.”

“If you don’t have words to say, don’t send anything.”

“.”

“Alright, go to sleep.”

“.”

“You really have OCD?”

“Mm.”

“What kind of ailment!”

“.”

This OCD!

But, it was somewhat interesting. If he wanted to keep chatting, she couldn’t sleep and would have to send periods all night.

Jiang Zhi threw the phone aside, yanked the bathrobe’s collar, his hair not yet dry, droplets slid down his temple to his neck, making him itch, he wiped the water with his fingertip, pulled back the covers, lied down, and then started coughing.

That night’s sleep quality was horrendous.