He is Lovestruck in the Revenge

Chapter 87 - 87 086 Xie Shang Realizes He Has Feelings (First

?Chapter 87: 086: Xie Shang Realizes He Has Feelings (First Update) Chapter 87: 086: Xie Shang Realizes He Has Feelings (First Update) Granny Zhu bought ten pounds of bayberries from Grandma Lin to make Bayberry Wine.

After washing the bayberries, she put them in a sealed glass container, covered them with white liquor, added sugar, and in a few months, it would be ready to drink.

Wen Changling watched from the side.

The head nurse’s call came in.

“Changling.”

There was silence for a moment before the head nurse said with a heavy tone, “Yan Cong has,” he paused, “been transferred to our hospice ward.”

The hospice ward had another name, the terminal ward. Those transferred to the hospice ward were people whose names Yama, the King of Hell, had already written down.

“I know.”

Wen Changling hung up the phone and continued to watch Granny Zhu make wine while squatting with the family’s tabby cat.

Granny Zhu had prepared three glass jars. Looking at the leftover liquor, she said, “There’s a bit too much liquor left, Changling, help me get some more bayberries.”

Wen Changling remained squatting without moving.

“Granny, can I drink the leftover liquor?”

Granny Zhu replied, “This is white liquor, very strong.”

Old Man Zhang from the street loved this kind of throat-burning white liquor, almost always drunk after ten drinks.

“No problem, I can hold my liquor very well.”

Granny Zhu didn’t know why Wen Changling suddenly felt like drinking but didn’t dampen her spirits, giving her the liquor along with the jar, “Take it to drink, I’ll get you some peanuts for snacking.”

Granny Zhu went to prepare some snacks for Wen Changling.

Wen Changling took a bowl, sat on the bamboo bed, and poured herself half a bowl.

The Hooked Cymbidiums in the courtyard had already twined around the sweet osmanthus tree. The alkaloids in Hooked Cymbidium are neurotoxic; poisoning first presents as pain in the mouth and throat, vomiting, abdominal pain and other gastrointestinal symptoms, followed by dizziness, difficulty swallowing, dilating pupils and symptoms similar to atropine poisoning. Eventually, death occurs due to respiratory paralysis.

With the vine growing so well, why doesn’t it flower?

“Meow.”

Wen Changling turned to look at Huahua, “Do you want a drink too?”

“Meow.”

She poured another half bowl, “You can’t drink.”

She was accustomed to drinking slowly, in small sips, no need for company, drinking alone from about five in the evening until sunset.

She truly could hold her liquor, immune to getting drunk like this.

“Changling,” Granny Zhu called out from the kitchen, “time to eat.”

“Oh, coming.”

Wen Changling put down the liquor bowl, stood up, and headed towards the gate, her steps a little unsteady.

The Ruyi Pawnshop next door had a visitor today, a well-dressed gentleman. Xie Shang was downstairs in the room where archives were kept, and Zhang Xiaoming knocked and entered.

Xie Shang held a book in his hand, but his gaze was fixed elsewhere.

Incense burned in the room, the kind with a slight haze of smoke, not blinding or choking, giving one the illusion of having wandered into an ancient scholar family’s home.

“Boss,” Zhang Xiaoming took out a business card, “a VIP client.”

Xie Shang’s gaze still fixed elsewhere, replied, “You handle them.”

“Me?” Zhang Xiaoming was puzzled, “Then you…”

Xie Shang put down the book, stood up.

Zhang Xiaoming, following the direction of Xie Shang’s gaze through the small window, saw Miss Wen from next door.

Wen Changling staggered aimlessly along the road.

On the street, Sister Xianglin, who sold fish, called out to her, “Xiao Wen, help me with this fish—”
As if deaf to any distractions, Wen Changling continued forward, occasionally raising her head to look at lanterns, finding her way out.

Xie Shang could tell she had drunk a lot, unable to walk in a straight line.

She walked for about fifteen minutes and reached a bus stop. She sat down on the bench with proper posture, turning her head each time a bus appeared.

Bus 147 arrived.

Wen Changling stood up, boarded the bus, fumbled in her pocket, no coins. She stuffed in a twenty-dollar note, didn’t wait for change, the bus driver called out to her but she didn’t respond—went straight to the nearest seat, sat by the window, gazing outside.

Xie Shang took a seat in the last row.

So this is what Miss Wen is like when she’s drunk—so lonely, as if she’s the only person in the world.

The bus’s automated voice announced, “Approaching stop, please exit from the rear door.”

Wen Changling stood up, got off the bus, her steps wobbly, the road she walked increasingly crooked, but it was clear she was headed for Dihong Hospital.

Xie Shang got off as well.

She went to Oncology, then to the Hospice area—she knew it well, it was her workplace. She could navigate with closed eyes, searching room by room.

The hospice ward was silent, as still as death itself. Indeed, no matter how much care was present, it was still a terminal ward—laughter and cheer were impossible.

Wen Changling found the room she was looking for. She entered, making sure to close the door behind her.

Xie Shang stood outside and heard her call out, “Ah Na.”

Then there was silence.

Wen Changling sat inside for quite a while, probably half an hour. When she came out, Xie Shang took a look inside the room—the person there, Yan Cong, had not awoken.

Wen Changling took bus 147 back.

By the time she got home, Granny Zhu was not in the courtyard. She sat next to Huahua and continued to drink her unfinished white liquor, as the evening breeze knocked leaves down.

Suddenly she began to sing, back and forth, just one line.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are.”

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are.”

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are.”

Xie Shang hadn’t wanted to disturb someone in a good drinking mood but couldn’t help himself.

“Wen Changling.”

Wen Changling turned around, a bit slow on the uptake, her eyes moist, “Wow, it’s Xie Xingxing.”

Then she changed the lyrics, “Twinkle, twinkle, little star, all the sky is Xie Xingxing.”

Xie Shang stood there, stunned.

He saw it—Miss Wen was crying.

He walked over, squatted down, and raised his hand—
Then he became completely still.

When Xie Qingze had died, Miss Wen had not been sad in the slightest. Xie Shang had always wanted to make Miss Wen cry. He took over Fu Ying’s pawn business; he appeared on Lotus Pond Street, in Granny Zhu’s courtyard, in front of Miss Wen, all to make her suffer, to make her pay back the tears she owed.

Now that she was crying,
His instinct was to squat down and wipe away her tears.

He jerked back, his inner calm totally disrupted.