Wild Creatures

Chapter 100

He absorbs the answering squeeze, taking it and wrapping it around his heart to protect himself from what is surely going to hurt.

"Let's rip off this bandaid," he mutters, pushing open the last doors.

She's still standing, that's his first thought. Her back is towards him, but she's still upright, and that's a plus point.

So it can't be that bad, right?

She says something to Xiao XingChen, who glances up to catch his eye when they walk into this foyer in front of the security room, and he's silently pleading...?

For what?

Baoshan Sanren turns around then.

"What the fuck? Grandmother? You couldn't sit down at least? What the fuck???" Wei Ying ignores Lan Zhan wincing every time he swore, but really, it's the shock.

His grandmother is walking around like it's nothing, when there's a nine inch blade embedded into her chest. It has torn through her white dress, now splattered with splashes of red.

"I rather liked this dress," she moans dramatically, her delicate fingers tracing the serrated, ragged edge pierced by the knife. "So my sentiments exactly: what the fuck, right? It's a Dior. 1920, spring collection, authentic and original. I'm never gonna find another one like it."

"I'm not talking about the stupid dress." Wei Ying bites out, running a hand through his hair and messing up his ponytail. "I thought we specifically said we weren't going to do this?" He's so annoyed, right now, and somehow, his eyes catch on the knife and stay there. "Why do you think he carried around an ugly knife like that?" The gremlin part of himself comes out to play. If his grandmother can downplay her injury like that, and he can understand why because inside, he's the same, then Wei Ying can play along.

"That's exactly what I was telling A-Chen, not five minutes ago. He really had bad taste." She glances back at the closed door behind them. "Lucky it's not made out of silver, otherwise-" she shudders, not wanting to think about it.

"Had? He's dead then, Wen Rouhan?" Wei Ying grabs her hand and tugs her down gently so they're both sitting next to each other now.

Wen Qing bursts out of the doors they had just come from, panting and trying to catch her breath.

She pales, hearing the last of their words.

"My uncle? Dead?"

Two guilty faces stare back at her, nodding silently.

"Can I see?" Wen Qing says, forcing her feet to move.

"Not everyone who dies should be mourned." Baoshan Sanren says, very much seriously.

"I know that," Wen Qing snaps, "I want to make sure, that's all. That he's really and truly dead. No offence, and it's not that I don't believe you."

"Then, why?" Baoshan Sanren is sharp, needing her reason.

"Closure. It means...it means A-Ning and I, we are finally free."

It is a measuring look, the one Baoshan Sanren levels at her. Whatever she sees makes her give a single nod.

"I'll treat you first, and then." Wen Qing promises.

"She's the best doctor I know," Wei Ying reassures his grandmother.

"And how often do you need one?" She gives him a side glare.

Every time his grandmother does something that Wei Ying can associate with, something that he would repeat if he were in the same position, it reinforced their strange connection, one that only bound them closer to each other. Like how, her reluctance to be treated, a natural distrust of anybody in the medical profession, and then not wanting to make her injury a big deal...all if it was like looking into a mirror.