But the evidence was still there.
He looked over at Zhou Jin. She was wearing his shirt, two of the buttons from the collar gone, the neckline falling open to expose her neck and one side of her fair chest — covered in kiss marks, some of which had already deepened to purple. And the bite that had nearly drawn blood, its mark still visible. As for the scattered trail of marks elsewhere on her skin — there was no need to mention those.
On the bed sheet was a small dark stain of blood. He thought of Zhou Jin beneath him, crying and telling him she was in pain.
Jiang Hansheng pressed his hand to his forehead. His head throbbed all the worse for it. He was overwhelmed with remorse.
He checked the time — past ten in the morning. He moved carefully toward Zhou Jin, took her gently by the arm, and called softly, “Zhou Jin?”
Zhou Jin scrunched her brow, rolled over, and showed no intention of waking.
He leaned in again. “Are you hungry? Does it — does it still hurt?”
Zhou Jin pulled the blanket up over her head and mumbled from beneath it, “Jiang Hansheng, I’m still sleeping.”
Jiang Hansheng fell silent.
Uncertain what to do, he withdrew his hand. Perhaps the hangover was dulling his judgment, but he couldn’t tell whether Zhou Jin was furious with him right now.
He was still turning this over in his mind when the Zhou Jin buried under the covers flipped them back again and forced her eyes open with some effort. “Oh no — I still have to write the action report for the Jingang rescue operation today. And the investigation report for the Huaiguang serial murder case.”
Jiang Hansheng said, “…It’s still early. Get some sleep. I’ll help you write them when you’re up.”
Zhou Jin leaned over and wrapped her arms around Jiang Hansheng, kissed him, and said, “You have to take responsibility for this.”
Jiang Hansheng smiled gently, nodded to reassure her, and then asked, “Are you still in pain?”
Zhou Jin said, “In so much pain. Everywhere hurts.”
Her legs and lower back ached and had no strength in them, and also—
Her face went a little red. “I’m going back to sleep, I’m so tired.” She burrowed back under the covers and paid him no further attention.
Jiang Hansheng didn’t trouble her further either. He got up and began tidying the mess scattered across the floor.
He gathered up Zhou Jin’s clothes, and the buttons that had come loose, and as he thought back over the things she had said the night before, the heaviness that had pressed on his heart for so long began to lift, gradually, into something lighter.
He stood on the balcony hanging up a damp bath towel. The bright sunlight filtered through the glass and fell warm across his shoulders.
Jiang Hansheng closed his eyes, tilted his face up, and let the sunlight wash over him for a moment. He was just beginning to think about what kind of lunch he could make to properly make it up to Zhou Jin, when a ringtone suddenly broke the quiet.
It sounded like Zhou Jin’s phone — not very loud. Not wanting to disturb her sleep, he followed the sound to find it.
Zhou Jin’s bag was on the floor by the front door, where she had dropped it the night before, her phone still inside untouched.
Jiang Hansheng picked it up, brushed off the dust, and unzipped it to retrieve the phone. The name on the screen read: Yan Bin.
Jiang Hansheng wasn’t pleased. He considered it for a moment, then simply declined the call.
As he went to set the phone back, something caught his eye. He reached in and took it out, his brow creasing slightly.
Medicine?