Chapter 21: Going Mad

Wei Tingxia didn’t speak, as if he had long grown accustomed to such service. He extended his hand slightly, and another server promptly handed him the wine glass.

He lowered his head, sniffed the aroma, and took a sip. “It’s decent.”

He placed the wine glass back on the table and looked at the manager. “Thanks for your trouble.”

A million-yuan bottle of wine held no particular allure in his eyes; one taste sufficed.

The manager, however, felt as if granted a great amnesty at those words—”Thanks for your trouble” and “It’s decent.” His tense shoulders relaxed slightly. “Serving you is my honor.”

With that, he straightened up, cleared his throat, and faced the guests in the private room, his voice resuming its professional clarity. “All consumption by our esteemed guests at the estate today has been covered by the host. Should you have any needs, please summon the staff at any time. We will attend to you wholeheartedly.”

As his words fell, he bowed respectfully once more and whispered to Wei Tingxia at a volume just audible to those nearby. “The property transfer procedures for the estate’s ownership are still in progress and are expected to complete within a week. You will then be able to formally take possession.”

Wei Tingxia’s heart jolted in shock—Yan Xinfeng had bought the entire estate and gifted it to him?!

The earlier gift of wine had been a mere gesture to save face, which Wei Tingxia accepted without qualms. But an entire estate was another matter.

This unfathomably scheming businessman had ultimately laid down the crushing high-interest loan, letting compound interest balloon until even selling off Wei Tingxia’s kidneys for several lifetimes wouldn’t cover a fraction.

“Got it,” he nodded. “You can get back to work.”

The manager turned and left. Once the door closed, the atmosphere in the room had utterly transformed.

Wei Tingxia turned his head and saw that the smile on Li Yan’s face could no longer hold.

Beneath that rigid expression lay undisguised shock and a trace of humiliated embarrassment at being played. The scrutinizing or schadenfreude-laden gazes from before had been replaced by awe and incredulity.

Yang Huaizhong opened his mouth as if to speak, but in the end, his Adam’s apple merely bobbed as he swallowed all his words.

Tian Meng’s hand, holding his wine glass, hung suspended in midair. The remaining red wine in the glass matched his complexion—dull and pathetically laughable. The smug confidence on his face had shattered without a trace, leaving only post-shock bewilderment and the stinging humiliation of a slap from an invisible giant hand.

The space fell into dead silence, save for the bottle of Egon Müller TBA—lightly dismissed by Wei Tingxia as merely “decent,” worth a million—quietly emanating its irrefutable, overpowering sweet fragrance from the decanter.

Wei Tingxia had only been poor for the first eighteen years of his life. Not a single second afterward lacked for money.

Their schemes lay thoroughly in ruins.

…

Twenty minutes later, Wei Tingxia left the private room and spotted Hu Yao, who had come to pick him up.

“Where is he?”

Hu Yao’s face remained expressionless, but his tone had softened considerably. “Waiting downstairs.”

Wei Tingxia found it novel and didn’t react immediately to the answer. Instead, he circled Hu Yao twice before asking, “Why didn’t he come up?”

“President Yan’s orders. He said he’s afraid he won’t be able to resist taking a swing.”

“And?”

One could only say they were cut from the same cloth—no need for Hu Yao to prompt; Wei Tingxia already knew there was more.

Upholding the basic professionalism of a bodyguard, Hu Yao steadied his voice. “President Yan also said he’s afraid that after swinging, you’ll argue, and then you’ll push him into the water.”

Wei Tingxia laughed, his eyes crinkling—not the forced smirk from the private room, but genuine delight.

He denied it with a grin. “After buying me an entire estate, how could I bear to push him in?”

Not necessarily. Hu Yao had seen them at their best; even in the most lovey-dovey phase, Wei Tingxia still had a dogged temper.

Forget an estate—even if Yan Xinfeng presented the whole world on a platter, Wei Tingxia wouldn’t hold back during a fight.

And yet Yan Xinfeng reveled in it.

In half a second, Hu Yao’s mind raced through a thousand thoughts, condensing into a few short sentences.

“Mr. Wei.”

He called out.

Wei Tingxia turned back, and Hu Yao gazed at him earnestly.

“I apologize for my poor attitude earlier,” Hu Yao said. “And I’m certain President Yan is serious about you. You should give it proper thought.”

…

Back in the room, Yan Xinfeng was on the balcony taking a call, his brows furrowed, his body language radiating irrepressible irritation.

Wei Tingxia watched for a moment when he suddenly heard System 0188 say: [It’s here.]

“What’s here?”

[Your 300,000,] System 0188’s voice regained its confidence. [Though they tried to cover their tracks carefully, I still found some clues.]

“Uh-huh?”

[You got set up,] System 0188 stated the obvious. [After combing through all the data points, the final trace leads to one of Yan Xinfeng’s subsidiary company buildings.]

So all of System 0188’s penniless days and the ensuing mockery and humiliation stemmed from Yan Xinfeng.

System 0188 had never encountered such a sinister, despicable, wicked protagonist in its life. These schemes hadn’t hurt Wei Tingxia—they had hurt System 0188.

[I really don’t get it!]

The purely utilitarian little system had been deeply wounded by the baffling human world, its mechanical tone laced with utter confusion and helplessness.

[Why did he do this? What’s in it for him? He stops you from making money, then turns around and gifts you an estate worth tens of millions. What does it mean?]

After venting, System 0188 grew paranoid: [Is he targeting me on purpose? Has he figured something out…]

Wei Tingxia listened silently, a smile tugging at his lips. He found System 0188’s antics quite amusing.

The system’s complaints, anger, and suspicions faded amid the sound of Yan Xinfeng pushing the door open and returning.

Wei Tingxia had drunk some wine and now felt a bit dizzy. He lounged lazily against the headboard, watching Yan Xinfeng approach, then reached out to hook his belt.

He asked, “What’s got you so pissed?”

Yan Xinfeng caught the sweet wine scent on him and frowned. “We had a deal in place, but I just got word that one of the parent company’s key executives is coming to City A to negotiate details with me.”

Wei Tingxia’s eyes flashed. “From where?”

“Europe,” Yan Xinfeng replied. “Specifically, Northern Europe.”

Anders’s operations were based in Northern Europe, so the executive’s identity went without saying.

What a pain.

Wei Tingxia released his hand and sat up a bit straighter. “Did you really buy the estate for me?”

Yan Xinfeng said, “No.”

Wei Tingxia breathed a sigh of relief.

Yan Xinfeng followed up immediately. “It’s still in negotiations right now. Should be able to sign the contract next week.”

?

Wei Tingxia sat up fully and yanked Yan Xinfeng down by the collar. “You’re really buying it?!”

“Small change,” Yan Xinfeng let him pull without resistance. “Better I give you money than them.”

Wei Tingxia narrowed his eyes—that line was clearly shade thrown at Tian Meng.

He slowly released his grip and flopped back onto the bed. “I didn’t invite them. They were clearly lying in wait for me.”

“So they invite you, and you go?”

Yan Xinfeng asked without much emotion. “If they invite you to feed the sharks, you going too?”

See, he got mad just like that.

Wei Tingxia lay comfortably, ensuring he was the only one fuming in the room. “I didn’t even think about jumping ship on the yacht. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Yan Xinfeng let out a cold scoff, ignoring his self-justification.

The conversation should have ended with his subtle concession, but Wei Tingxia had another question.

He asked, “What’s the deal with my 300,000?”

Yan Xinfeng’s back stiffened, his voice betraying no emotion. “What?”

“I invested that money in stocks in batches. It’s been almost a month—no profits, no losses. I don’t know stocks or finance. Care to explain why?”

“You got unlucky.”

Wei Tingxia snorted. “Now you’re hiding behind luck, huh.”

“…”

“Giving me money but not letting me earn it,” Wei Tingxia tapped his knee idly. “Do you think I’m not worthy in your eyes? Hmm? A bird kept caged forever—sings nicely, so you toss it scraps, bugs or grain, doesn’t matter. You give it, so it eats.”

His tone was casual, but his words stabbed deep, piercing straight to the softest spot in the heart.

Yan Xinfeng turned back in disbelief, meeting Wei Tingxia’s smiling eyes—as if he had no idea the impact of his words, nor cared about the pain surging in Yan Xinfeng’s chest.

He had rendered himself worthless, dragging Yan Xinfeng’s heart down into the mud, grinding it humbly into the dirt.

“Wei Tingxia…”

After a long stare-down, Yan Xinfeng’s voice rasped out as if ground from gravel. “Is that… what you really think of me?”

“Isn’t it?” Wei Tingxia countered.

He was clearly drunk, yet his eyes held a cold, cutting clarity. The more Yan Xinfeng looked, the heavier his heart sank, plunging into an icy abyss.

He briefly closed his eyes, trying to cage his crumbling sanity. But surging rage incinerated all restraint. Yan Xinfeng shot to his feet, storming toward the door.

Just then, the phone rang again. The shrill tone echoed through the room. Without a glance, Yan Xinfeng snatched it up and smashed it against the floor!

A shattering crash erupted, parts scattering, the ringtone cutting off abruptly. He stood amid the wreckage, chest heaving like a volcano on the verge of eruption.

Crimson fury swirled in his eyes, his gaze as if ready to pounce and strangle the heartless bastard on the bed the next second.

Wei Tingxia met it fearlessly, head tilted up.

After a long moment, Yan Xinfeng exhaled and forced out a strange, broken scoff from his throat. With the laugh, his rage extinguished entirely, replaced by overwhelming helplessness.

The man who commanded millions with a wave vanished. Yan Xinfeng stood dejectedly, his gaze toward Wei Tingxia hollow and despairing—identical to that gut-wrenching night five years ago.

“How could you do this to me?”

He whispered hoarsely, a incredulous wail of utter devastation. “How… could you bear it?”

Demanding true affection from a heartless man was like asking grass from the sky or rain from the earth.

He should have known it was a fool’s delusion. Wei Tingxia didn’t love him—he had seen it five years ago, yet five years later, he still chased shadows.

His eyes held such profound sorrow, such greedy longing, the thick despair nearly tangible. Wei Tingxia’s lips parted, as if to speak.

“It’s okay…”

But Yan Xinfeng cut him off swiftly.

“It’s okay,” he echoed, his voice suddenly softening to an eerie, sticky obsessiveness.

“I know you have no heart—or if you do, it’s not for me. But that’s fine. I won’t let you go again.”

Cool fingertips, with irresistible force, traced the scar over Wei Tingxia’s left brow—as if appraising a recovered yet damaged treasure.

Yan Xinfeng murmured, planting a kiss at the corner of his eye.

“Five years ago, I was powerless, getting neither the man nor the heart. Not this time…”

Wei Tingxia would never leave.