Chapter 22 I Will Change Your Dressing
She struggled to stand up, thinking to herself that as long as he wanted to eat, she would cook for him.
But he gently pushed her back down and said, "You show me how, I'll cook it myself."
"You even burn eggs. How are you gonna make good noodles?" She smiled at him, giving herself a reason to cook.
Her smile was so gentle that Jack was momentarily stunned. His fingers unconsciously touched her face. "Emily, your smile is purer and more beautiful than before. Are you an angel disguised as a devil, tempting me, making me fall for you? I can't believe I actually feel pity for this fickle woman. Emily, how do you do it?"
She listened, thinking she hadn't done anything at all.
She never intended to hurt him. Being with him was all about giving, wasn't it?
She remembered him as the kind-hearted Jack who bought an orphan's painting at the charity sale, so she always thought of him as the best person in the world.
But it was also him who gave her indescribable pain.
She slowly stood up, looking up into his eyes. "Jack, I said I don't remember, but I really don't want to be hurt by you anymore." She spoke foolishly in front of him, already drawn in by the indescribable feeling in his eyes, even forgetting why she had come into this apartment.
In the night, the occasional flicker of the TV's light brushed across her face, a face that was both familiar and strange to him.
He moved closer, took a deep breath, and suddenly pulled her into his arms, speaking in a low, powerful voice, "If you hurt me again, I will make you wish you were dead."
His words carried hate, but the strength of his embrace revealed a vulnerability that was hard to notice.
He held her so tightly, as if he wanted to merge her into his body.
She gritted her teeth, silently enduring it, considering it a penance for taking on the name Emily.
That woman must have hurt him deeply, causing him such pain.
This pain was clearly visible on him.
She felt a sharp pain in her chest, the wound bleeding from his embrace.
But she made no sound, just closed her eyes, enjoying his embrace and the faint scent of his cologne.
She liked this scent; it was the essence of a man.
Suddenly, he noticed her pain and cursed softly, "Idiot, if it hurts, you should say something. You're such a fool." He let go of her, affectionately ruffling her hair as if to prove she was a fool.
"It doesn't hurt, I'm fine." As long as he didn't hurt her, she felt happy.
He bent down, just like when he found her on the rooftop before, gently picked her up, and placed her on the sofa. "Wait here, I'll change your bandage."
"You know how to do that?" she asked.
"Yes." He answered simply, then turned to get the first aid kit from the cabinet.
The room was dark, and he knelt on the carpet, his fingers naturally reaching for the buttons on her shirt.
She closed her eyes, and he focused entirely on her wound, not noticing her shyness.
The bandage slowly unwound, revealing the shocking red beneath. As he gently unwrapped it, he murmured softly, "You're such a troublemaker, getting into trouble the moment you leave me. This is the first time the cops have come looking for me because of you."
It wasn't a complaint, more like a tender whisper.
The bandage was almost off, but the last layer stuck to the wound. He gently tugged, trying to distract her, "Emily, don't go out at night anymore, okay?"
Before he finished speaking, he suddenly pulled, tearing the bandage from the wound. She couldn't help but cry out.
But the pain quickly subsided.
"Does it hurt anymore?" He smiled, showing his neat teeth.
"No." She bit her lip lightly. The wound didn't hurt anymore, but her heart was racing.
He stood up, his tall figure casting a shadow on the ceiling from the TV light, then moved to the study next door.
She lay on the sofa, not daring to move, afraid of pulling the wound.
He returned from the study with a desk lamp, illuminating her.
After setting up the lamp, he took the medicine and carefully applied it to her wound under the light.
"What are you thinking about?" He suddenly laughed lightly, sensing her trembling, which relaxed her nerves a bit.
"Nothing." She replied.
"I think you should go to the hospital tomorrow, or the wound might get infected." He suggested.
"No need, with the medicine and some antibiotics, I'll be fine. I don't want to go to the hospital." She refused, fearing that going to the hospital might force her back to this apartment, making things more awkward.
"Suit yourself, but I don't want to deal with the cops again." He said, finishing the application and preparing to re-bandage her.
"Don't worry, we didn't do anything wrong, the police won't keep coming." She recalled the night before last, if she hadn't desperately tried to escape that thug, she wouldn't have been hurt. It was as if something drove her to run into the blade.
He carefully helped her sit up to bandage her. Once she was steady, he wrapped the bandage around her, not too loose or tight, with a skill that surprised her.
"Jack, did you learn how to bandage?" She asked.
His hand paused, then he answered in a low voice after a while, "No."
She wanted to ask why he knew how to bandage wounds, but seeing the faint shadow on his face, she swallowed the question.
He tied the bandage, and as she reached to pull her shirt, he caught her hand, "Emily, don't move." He said, wrapping his arms around her from behind, his hands crossing over her stomach.
His breath on her neck made her breathing quicken. She didn't know what he was going to do next, but his hands held her tightly, not letting her move.
The desk lamp on the coffee table cast long shadows on the carpet, their shadows merging as if they were one, tightly embracing.
She could hear his breathing and the ticking of the old clock on the wall.
Her skin gradually relaxed with the passage of time.
This embrace felt like a mutual dependence, a search for solace.