Rule No. 1: Don’t be too emotional : Chapter 45

When the angel of death appears at the front door of your home, well, someone dies.

I spoke even though my heart felt like it was going to explode. I was desperate to know his answer. His silence-did it mean his heart was racing too? I didn’t think my ears deceived me; I heard his breath hitch, breaking its steady rhythm.

I waited for minutes, but no answer came. Unable to bear it, I began to turn over just to look at his back, but as I moved, I found he had already turned to face me. His eyes shimmered in the dark, reflecting a thousand unspoken words. I asked him one more time.

“P’… ” “Are you still Big Jane to Little Jane?” His large hand reached out to stroke my face ever so slightly before moving to tenderly brush my hair. Then, he spoke: “It’s late. Go to sleep.” I bit my lip. I could feel it-he wasn’t ready to open his heart yet. The request I made five years ago-for him to leave me-still stood between us like a permanent monument. I was trapped in a prison of my own making. If I pushed him too hard, he might just walk out that door and never come back. I didn’t know if he still loved me the same way; I only knew he still cared. And yet, I didn’t dare say “I love you” either, even though those words had been stifled for five years. We were both stuck in a suffocating situation-full of love, the desire to stay, the urge to leave, and immense pain. P’ Jane was never an easy man, and I didn’t want to lose him again. Not ever.

“P’… please don’t go,” my voice trembled as a lump formed in my throat. Finally, tears began to stream down my cheeks.

“I’m so scared… scared that I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone again. Please.” He continued to stroke my hair before answering in an incredibly soft voice.

“Go to sleep, Jane. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Close your eyes, my good boy.” I nodded through my tears and closed my eyes as he asked. I would be his “good boy.” I would give him as much time as he needed, as long as I could still see his face and reach out to touch him. There had to be a day when he’d open his heart to me again. And on that day, I would tell him I love him with everything I have. Cough, cough, cough!

“Mom, is your throat going to hold up?” I asked worriedly.

“Oh, it’s just a little cough and a sniffle now. The worst of it is gone,” Mom replied .

“I think it’s because you came back to take care of me.”

“Haha, you’re exaggerating, Mom.”

“Go grab me a pack of lozenges from dad’s shop. Get the honey flavor.”

I walked out to the storefront. My dad was busy selling medicine to an elderly woman in Teochew Chinese, but she turned to me immediately.

“Jane, what do you need, dear?”

“Lozenges for Mom. Don’t forget to put it on the tab.”

“Go ahead, take them.”

“And… can I take a bottle of Eucerin lotion too? I’ll come back and pay for it.”

“Just take it. Put it on the bill; you don’t need to pay me.” I grabbed the items and headed back inside.

“You look much better than yesterday, Mom,” I noted.

“I feel better. I should be back to 100% tomorrow, which is good because the housework is piling up. I ask Jean to help, but she never does. Jet is studying so hard for his ward rounds; he looks exhausted when he gets home, so I told him not to worry about the chores.” I felt a prick of irritation.

“Why isn’t Jean helping? Is she studying hard for her university entrance exams?” Mom let out a long, weary sigh.

“Jane, I haven’t seen that girl open a book once. All she does is play on her phone and dance all day. To be honest, her behavior is getting worse. She finishes eating and leaves the plate for me. She hides in her room. The other day, Jet couldn’t stand it and had to wash all the dishes after pulling an all-nighter at the hospital. Is that right, Jane?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Exactly. She doesn’t listen to anyone. Does she have to wait until dad and I are in our coffins to realize?”

“Mom, don’t talk like that.”

“I’m really worried about her, Jane. I can see her becoming a burden to you and Jet in the future. No matter how much allowance we give her, she never saves a cent. And last month… I caught her stealing cosmetics from dad’s shop.”

“What?!”

“Yes. I heard a noise at night and found her with a flashlight, stealing serums and creams. I gave her a piece of my mind. I covered for her by putting it on my own tab, but if dad found out, the house would go up in flames.” I couldn’t believe it. This was a serious issue. Mom continued to praise Jet for how much he had improved since his gambling trouble, but her worry for Jean was deep.

“She’s going to end up in debt and expect her brothers to clean up her mess.”

“I’ll talk to Jean tonight,” I promised.

“I have to go back to work tomorrow morning anyway.”

“Try if you want,” Mom said , “but I doubt she’ll listen.

She’ll just talk back and say you’re ‘just’ her brother.” As it turned out, I didn’t have the energy to talk to anyone that night. Cough… ” Hello?”

[Jane, you’re coming back to work tomorrow, right?] P’Jane’s voice came through the line.

“Yes, P’Jane.” I quickly grabbed a tissue to blow my nose.

“Mom is much better now.”

[She might be better, but you sound terrible. ]

“I’m fine.”

[No, you’re not. You caught the flu from your mother. Take another two or three days off. ]

“I don’t need to. I’ll sleep it off tonight.”

[I told you to rest, ] he said firmly.

“But I’m worried about Jamie.”

[So you want to come back and give the flu to Jamie? Don’t worry so much; we have plenty of staff here. ]

“But it’s not their job. Everyone has their own work to do.”

[Jane. Don’t be stubborn. ] I gave in completely.

His brief, firm words subdued me just as they always had in the past. I could only let out a soft hum of agreement.

[Good boy, ] he murmured.

[Have you taken your medicine? How are you feeling?]

The tone of his voice stripped away every bit of my strength. I felt like a three-year-old again, desperate to whine and be pampered by him.

“I’m burning up… and my head hurts.”

[Poor thing. ]

“I don’t have any energy at all.”

[Just rest for now. You’ll feel better in a few days. ]

“You… you’ll come back, right? You aren’t going to just not come back?” I asked, a sudden insecurity hitting me.

[Of course I’m coming back. ] I couldn’t see his face, so I didn’t know his expression, but the sound of his breath over the line made me feel like he was smiling.

I was smiling, too. I looked up at the dried bouquet of lilacs hanging on my bedroom wall and gave them a bright smile-something I’d never done before. Usually, I just stared at them vacantly or with a heart full of sorrow.

[Is your head still throbbing?]

“A bit dizzy, P’ Jane. Is Jamie being fussy since I’m not there?”

[He’s been taking that ‘Miss Piano’ toy to bed every night since your first night away. ] I laughed, imagining the sight.

“Then I’ll have to leave Miss Piano in charge of Jamie for now.” A thought struck me.

“Wait… since I’m not there, you haven’t taken Jamie to do anything risky, have you?”

[I took him horseback riding. Is that risky enough?]

“You’re being a brat.” I heard him chuckle softly.

[I haven’t taken him anywhere like that. I promise. ]

“Really?” I pressed.

[Really, Jane. Now rest. I have to hang up; I have work late tonight. ]

” You’re going already?” I felt a pang of disappointment; we had only talked for a moment. But his next sentence was like fertilizer to’ a withered tree, making me bloom instantly.

[But I’ll call you every night until you come back. ]

“Promise?”

[Yes. I promise. ]

“And you won’t break your word?”

[I won’t break it. ]

This time, I knew he was smiling. I could imagine that faint curve of his lips and those sharp, dark eyes sparkling like stars.

[I’m going now, Jane. ]

“Okay.”

[Goodnight, Jane. ]

“Goodnight, P’Jane.”

“Stay right there! Don’t come any closer!” I couldn’t help but bark at him. Jet, wearing three layers of face masks, stood firm as we crossed paths in front of the downstairs bathroom.

“Stop acting like I’m disgusting! It’s just the flu, not leprosy!”

“It doesn’t matter what it is. And stop shouting, you’ll hurt your throat.”

“It already hurts!”

“Ugh, seriously,” Jet sighed .

“Mom gets better and then my brother gets sick. All I see are sick people at the hospital, and now I see them at home. I’m going crazy!”

“Do you think I chose to be sick?”

“Fine, fine. How are you feeling? Better than yesterday?”

“A little,” I replied, my voice sounding nasal.

“But my sinuses are killing me. It feels like something is crawling around in there.” Jet looked at me with genuine concern. I’d been sick for four days, but I looked like I’d been bedridden for a month.

“Sit over there. I’ll check your vitals.” I sat on the sofa. Jet used a penlight to inspect my nasal passages and checked my pulse.

“Your sinuses are still swollen, but your fever is down. Your pulse is normal. Make sure you finish the entire course of antibiotics, P. Don’t skip them, or you’ll develop drug resistance.”

“Since when did nurses learn to diagnose swollen sinuses like doctors?” I teased.

“They don’t. I learned it from Bambie.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Call me if anything changes. I have to get back to work.”

“Thanks, Jet.” Yesterday, my heart rate had spiked to 160 in the middle of the night because of the high fever. The whole house was in an uproar. It’s a good thing Jet was there, or no one would have known what to do. My dad, the pharmacist, only really knows about the medicine itself.

“Jane! Jane! Come downstairs, quickly!” Jet and I both jumped as Mom burst into the room without knocking. Seeing me shirtless, she snapped, “Put a shirt on, Jane! Both of you, get downstairs right now!”

“What is it, Mom?”

“No time to explain! Just come down!” We were baffled, but Mom’s frantic state made us hurry. Jet hung up the towel while I threw on a T-shirt. We raced downstairs to find Mom and Dad standing there, looking like they were holding their breath, unable to speak. My heart began to beat like a war drum. Standing at the front of our house was a man, nearly 192 cm tall, dressed entirely in black-from his short-sleeved shirt and watch to his belt, trousers, and leather shoes. Even his hair and eyes were a deep, midnight black. In his hand, he held a basket of milk decorated with purple lilacs. A cool, blue aura seemed to radiate from him in every direction. A barn owl shrieked from a nearby roof as the night set in. The silhouette of the tall man against a deep purple twilight sky was breathtaking. The visitor spoke in a soft voice, a small smile playing on his ruggedly handsome face.

“Hello. I am Big Jane. I’ve come to visit Little Jane.” He looked like a Grim Reaper, a man arriving with blue flames and the scent of cold cologne. Suddenly, I remembered the saying:Whenever the Reaper appears at your door, someone in the house must die. I was certain I would be the one to die-from the sheer heat of his presence.

“Please! Come in! Let me take that for you,” dad chirped, snatching the basket from P’ Jane’s hand before ushering him into our home.

“Excuse me,” he said as he stepped inside. His sharp eyes scanned the large pharmacy storefront before he followed us into the living area. He sat down to remove his shoes while dad frantically dusted off the sofa. Jet looked utterly confused as to why dad was acting so subservient to my ex-boyfriend.

“Sit right here, please!” Wait, dad, isn’t that the chair you never let anyone sit in?

“Don’t just stand there, Jet! Go get our guest some water. What would you like to drink, sir?” P’ Jane smiled thinly. “‘ Apple juice would be fine. And I’ll sit here.” He moved to an old sofa that wasn’t dad’s favorite. Dad didn’t protest.

“Perfect! We have apple juice! Jet, get on it! And put some ice in it!” Jet, still bewildered, went to the kitchen and returned with the juice. P’Jane thanked him. He still managed to make a glass of fruit juice look like a glass of expensive whiskey. Just then, I let out a cough.

“Are you not feeling better yet?” P’ Jane asked immediately.

“I am. Much better. My throat was just a bit itchy.”

“Why don’t you two go talk in Jane’s bedroom?” Mom suggested in a humble tone.

“I’m about to start cooking, and I don’t want the smell to get into your clothes.” If anyone viewed P’ Jane as a true benefactor, it was my Mom and Dad. Their deference was on full display today. P’ Jane stood up after having been seated for less than seven minutes.

“Let’s go upstairs then,” I said softly.

“Follow me to the second floor, P’ Jane.”

I led the way, with the tall man following behind me with silent footsteps. Once inside my room, I began frantically tidying up.

“I… I didn’t expect guests. And I’ve been sick for days, so I haven’t cleaned. Sorry it’s a mess.” He smiled faintly.

“It’s not a mess. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.””… ”

“Just rest.”

“Okay.” I tossed the laundry into a basket.

“You can sit at the computer chair.” He nodded and sat down while I walked past him to get to the bed.

“Ugh, my head is spinning,” I muttered to myself as I flopped onto the mattress. I hadn’t intended for him to notice, but he was at my side instantly.

“Is it bad?”

“No, no. Sit back down.”

“It’s because you were running around cleaning. I told you it was fine.” He pressed his palm against my forehead. I lay there, helpless, looking up at him from just inches away. I didn’t dare tell him that Jet and I had just confirmed my fever was gone. He kept his hand there for nearly two minutes before speaking in a level voice.

“You’re still a bit warm.”

“Just a little. I told you I’m fine,” I murmured. P’ Jane sat on the edge of the bed. He scanned the room, and I felt my heart skip a beat when I realized his eyes had landed on the dried lilacs on the wall. He didn’t say anything, but his gaze shifted to the blue basin and the towel on the nightstand-the ones Jet had just used to wipe me down.

“Were you just giving yourself a sponge bath?” P’ Jane asked.

“Y-yes. Jet was helping me, but Mom called for us right when you arrived.”

“I’ll finish it for you. Come here.”

“Wait-no!” I cried out in shock. But he remained still, his voice level and cool.

“It’s fine. I can do it.”

“No, no, no! You’re a guest. How can you give me a sponge bath?”” That’s irrelevant.” He dipped the towel into the basin and turned to look at me. His sharp eyes glowed like polished glass. I couldn’t read a single emotion on his face as he spoke in a voice that was soft yet commanding.

“Take off your shirt.” When I just sat there, eyes wide with disbelief, he laid the damp towel on the edge of the basin. He reached out and pulled my T-shirt over my head. I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart hammering against my ribs. I heard the sound of him taking a sip of water, and after what felt like an eternity, I felt a sharp, electric chill against my stomach that made every hair on my body stand up. It wasn’t the cold of a wet towel. It was the ice from his drink. P’Jane had taken an ice cube from his apple juice into his mouth. He pressed it against my skin, dragging it from my abdomen up to my chest. The ice melted rapidly under the heat of his mouth until only a small fragment remained. He used his tongue to nudge it back down toward my navel, as if he were meticulously creating a work of art with the ice, and I was the canvas. I dug my toes and fingernails into the mattress as the tiny shard slipped into my navel.
He flicked his hot tongue over it-gently at first, then with a rhythmic intensity that made my hips buck up instinctively. He did this several times until the ice had completely dissolved into water and saliva. I was panting, my breath ragged. The spark of arousal in my gut had swelled into an explosion. I clamped my legs together to try and contain it, but he used his hands to force them apart. He reached into my elastic waistband, his palm kneading my hardness before sliding down to the soft skin of my inner thighs. I let out a low, sweet moan. I wanted more. P’ Jane moved quickly, pinning me down. I could feel that he was as rock-hard as I was.

“P’ Jane… ” I gasped, my fingers tangling in his coal-black hair while his hot lips traced the line of my throat. Every ounce of restraint vanished. We were completely consumed by each other. Knock, knock, knock!

“Boys? What are you doing in there? It’s Mom.” We both froze. Mom’s voice snapped the trance instantly. Neither of us dared to shout back for fear our voices would betray us. My heart raced even faster-I realized I hadn’t locked the door. – “Jane? Jane, are you in there?”

“Y-yes, Mom!” I shouted back, even as P’ Jane’s massive frame remained pinned between my legs. He stared at the door without blinking.

“Dinner is ready. Come on down. I’ve already called Jet and Jean.”” Okay! We’re coming!” Once her footsteps faded, my heart lightened slightly, but the awkwardness of the situation remained. P’ Jane pulled away without a word. He turned his back to me to straighten his hair and clothes, looking unusually flustered. I scrambled to pull my shirt back on and adjust myself before opening the door. We washed our hands in the bathroom and headed downstairs. As we emerged, Jet let out a loud exclamation.

“Whoa! Did a King just move into our house? Are you trying to feed the whole village, Mom?” Mom glared at him.

“Hush, Jet. It’s not that much.” But Jet wasn’t wrong. There were about twelve dishes on the round table-all expensive delicacies: prawns, crab, sea bass, scallops, and Mom’s signature stir-fried morning glory.

“Sit here, Big Jane,” Dad said , sliding his usual chair over for P’ Jane.

He had no choice but to sit. I sat in my usual spot beside him, with Jet next to me.

“Jean, serve the rice, dear. Serve Big Jane first, then dad.” P’ Jane thanked my sister. Once everyone was served, the meal began.

“Please, start, Big Jane,” my father said.

“It’s just simple food. I hope it’s to your liking.”

“It’s not simple at all,” P’Jane replied politely. Jet looked baffled by how our parents were treating a man who was roughly their son’s age, but he kept his questions to himself. P’Jane smiled and used the serving spoon to place a generous portion of crab into my plate.

“Jane hasn’t been well. I want him to eat a lot to regain his strength.”

“Oh, of course!” Mom and Dad chimed in.

The meal proceeded with small talk. Eventually, Jet and Jean connected the dots-that P’ Jane was my employer and the “foreign kid” I looked after was his younger brother. Mom cooed over a photo of Jamie on P’ Jane’s phone.

“He’s adorable! I hope our Jane isn’t a nuisance to you,” dad said. P’ Jane smirked.

“He’s doing a great job. Jamie loves his nanny more than his own brother now.” The table erupted in laughter.

“By the way,” dad asked, “how long do you plan to mourn for the Lady?”

“I intend to mourn for a full year. I’ll be in black for a while.” I listened, realizing why he had arrived in all black tonight. It seems pajamas were exempt from the mourning period, since he’d worn blue ones the other night. Suddenly, I felt a strange sensation at my feet. I looked down. Under the table, P’ Jane was rubbing his foot against mine while casually continuing his conversation with dad. He is wicked… His black-socked foot stroked the bridge of my foot slowly, deliberately. His face was perfectly still, his voice calm. No one noticed a thing. He even chuckled at one of dad’s jokes while he made my skin crawl with arousal. I didn’t dare move, but I didn’t pull away either. My heart thudded as he slid his toes into the cuff of my pants, tracing circles against my skin. I squeezed my legs together, but took a sharp breath when his hand reached under the table to gently force my legs back open. Wicked. Truly wicked…

I could have stopped him, but I was enjoying it too much to pretend otherwise. It was a thrill like nothing I’d ever felt. It was becoming my favorite kind of foreplay. He couldn’t do much with his hands since he had to hold his cutlery, but his feet were doing all the work. I felt like I might actually climax right there at the dinner table.

“Jane? Is something wrong, dear? Why is your face so red? You’re breathing fast. Is your fever back?” Everyone turned to look at me-including the man causing the chaos. His jet-black eyes danced with a deep, hidden amusement.

“I… I think so, Mom.” I stood up, offering a weak smile.

“I should go take my medicine and lie down. Please, everyone, keep eating.” I. gave him a meaningful look, and he looked back with equal weight. I went upstairs, my heart racing, expecting him to follow me immediately. But after ten minutes, I realized he couldn’t just walk away from a meal my mother had slaved over. He’d be stuck there until dessert. P’Jane, you idiot… you set me on fire and left me here. I eventually drifted into a light sleep. When I woke up an hour later, he still hadn’t appeared. I went back downstairs. Mom and Jet were washing dishes. Dad was back in the pharmacy. There was no sign of the tall man.

“Mom, where is P’Jane?”

“Oh, he went up to see you about twenty minutes ago. You didn’t see him?” I shook my head. Mom and Jet both frowned.

“Then where did he go?”

“It’s fine. He’s probably in the second-floor bathroom.” I went back up, but the bathroom was empty. Then, I heard voices-a man and a woman-coming from the third floor. It was coming from Jean’s bedroom. They weren’t close enough to have anything to talk about. A wave of possessiveness and suspicion washed over me. I didn’t knock. I tried the handle, but Jean had locked it. I ran to my room, grabbed the master keys dad had given me, and returned to her door. I unlocked it and burst inside.

“What are you doing?!” The words died in my throat. A cold shiver, far worse than any fever, raced through my body. I felt like screaming, but no sound came out. P’ Jane and Jean both turned to look at me. Jean’s index finger was dripping blood onto the floor. On P’ Jane’s right cheek, there was a symbol: an inverted cross. They had made a pact. It was just like the old folk tale: Whenever the Reaper appears at your door, someone in the house must die.