Chapter 26: Revenge Part 1

After realizing what Yan Xinfeng was looking at, Anders took half a step back, trying to put some distance between himself and Wei Tingxia. However, since he had noticed too late and the space in the cabin was too cramped, this action did not have much effect and only seemed all the more suspicious.

Seeing his movements, Wei Tingxia wished he could shove Anders into one of the cages in the lower hold as well. Unfortunately, it was too late. He could only watch helplessly as Yan Xinfeng glanced around before walking toward them.

There was no furious expression, no urgent questioning. Yan Xinfeng approached with a calm pace that was eerily chilling, stepping one by one onto the rusty iron stairs. Crimson sparks flickered with each step, becoming the only dancing light source in the darkness.

When he reached the middle of the stairs, Yan Xinfeng extinguished his cigarette and waited for the sea wind to disperse the smoke before coming face-to-face with Wei Tingxia.

The sound of his leather shoe soles striking the metal was infinitely amplified in the deathly silent early morning dock. Wei Tingxia rarely felt a trace of panic and helplessness. He looked left and right, at the sky and the ground, but refused to meet Yan Xinfeng’s gaze, as if he had truly snuck out behind his new husband’s back to fool around, betraying marital fidelity.

The sound of the waves in the early morning stood out especially clearly in the silence, monotonously and coldly lapping against the dock like some merciless countdown.

Anders did not want to clash directly with Yan Xinfeng at this critical moment. He silently retreated two more steps, trying to slip away unnoticed from the storm that was about to erupt.

However, upon hearing his footsteps, Yan Xinfeng casually lifted his eyes.

In an instant, Anders’s body stiffened, as if nailed to the spot by some invisible force. His heart pounded like thunder, and a layer of cold sweat broke out on his back.

There was no pure killing intent like Wei Tingxia’s in Yan Xinfeng’s gaze, nor was it simple anger. It was something sharper and colder, like a dark shadow surging in an icy wasteland.

It was precisely because he could not discern it that it felt even more terrifying.

Anders made a snap decision. “Mr. Yan, we didn’t—”

Yan Xinfeng ignored his excuse and lowered his head to ask Wei Tingxia, “Are you done chatting?”

Wei Tingxia did not understand what he intended to do and silently nodded.

Did that mean he was not angry?

Yan Xinfeng said, “If you’re done, let’s go. I’ll take you home.”

He had driven here in the middle of the night, putting on a murderous posture, but it turned out he had only come to pick him up.

Wei Tingxia could not figure out what game Yan Xinfeng was playing for the moment, but clearly now was not the time to argue. So he nodded again, putting on an obedient and compliant appearance.

The sea wind lifted the hem of Yan Xinfeng’s coat as he turned first and walked down the gangway. Wei Tingxia obediently followed behind him. When he passed Hu Yao, their eyes met in a helpless glance.

Once back in the car, the atmosphere was completely different from that afternoon. Wei Tingxia was at a rare disadvantage, while Yan Xinfeng said nothing, his fingers unconsciously tapping the armrest.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

System 0188 remained silent, but a glaring data panel automatically popped up in the center of Wei Tingxia’s vision.

The curve that had barely been suppressed earlier now shot up like a roller coaster, nearly breaking through the warning line. The stability of the entire world once again hung on the brink of a crumbling cliff.

But unlike the last destructive peak, this time, the soaring curve paused slightly at the top and began to fall at an extremely slow and reluctant speed. It was as if an invisible hand was tightly strangling that out-of-control rage, forcibly pressing it down.

Yan Xinfeng was enduring.

He was forcing himself to believe that the scene before him might… perhaps… not be a betrayal.

Wei Tingxia knew all too well how this looked.

A man who had betrayed him years ago slipped out of the house while he was asleep, drove dozens of kilometers to this near-abandoned port, and “happened” to meet another man in an abandoned ship cabin.

Even if it were Wei Tingxia himself, facing this situation, it would be hard not to think the worst.

But in fact, nothing had happened.

The matter with those prisoners was not suitable to mention aloud, at least not yet. Wei Tingxia was still looking for a more appropriate time.

But letting Yan Xinfeng endure like this on his own was not a good choice either.

Wei Tingxia glanced sideways, and his heart tightened slightly. In just a few minutes, Yan Xinfeng’s face had paled further, his brows tightly furrowed. He deliberately avoided Wei Tingxia’s gaze, looking out the car window, but the blurry reflection on the glass exposed the deep exhaustion and helplessness in his expression without reservation.

He really looked like a powerless middle-aged man who had discovered his wife cheating but feared breaking it open would lead to family ruin.

“If I said,” Wei Tingxia cleared his throat, his voice especially loud in the quiet car, “that things aren’t what you think, would you believe me?”

His voice pulled Yan Xinfeng from his thoughts. He turned his eyes toward Wei Tingxia, the corners of his mouth hooking up slightly. “Do you know what I’m thinking?”

Wei Tingxia felt he should know, so he answered honestly. “A cuckold’s hat is green, whether light or dark, but really, nothing happened.”

Admitting this felt humiliating to him, but not to mention Anders—to say that among all the men in the world, probably only Yan Xinfeng could tolerate his wild antics.

He drooped his head somewhat dejectedly, feeling a bit annoyed at how narrow his options for a partner were.

But Yan Xinfeng laughed.

After a short, ambiguous chuckle, he declared firmly, “You and Eisenhoth have no future.”

Knowing it in his own heart was one thing; having the other party bluntly expose it was another. It had nothing to do with like or dislike—it was purely a blow to a man’s pride.

Wei Tingxia jerked his head up. “Why?”

Yan Xinfeng’s tone was flat, stating an objective fact. “Because he can’t love you forever.”

Wei Tingxia scoffed. “Is that so? As if you can.”

“I can,” Yan Xinfeng said, staring straight at him with a serious gaze. “Your lack of heart is your problem. I’m perfectly sound.”

So Yan Xinfeng claimed he could love Wei Tingxia long-term, even eternally, and guarantee that love would never fade.

He felt a near-obsessive pride in his own soundness, but Wei Tingxia precisely punctured this bubble of self-consolation. “If you were truly sound, you should have given up on me five years ago, or at least gotten fierce revenge after reuniting.”

Instead of being like this now, still begging for mercy, bending his bones before Wei Tingxia, humbly pleading for that illusory affection.

How harsh.

Yan Xinfeng shook his head helplessly before simply admitting, “Yeah, maybe I’m not sound either.”

When the gods created him, they must have dug an unhealable hole from his soul and fused the excess part into Wei Tingxia’s body. That was why he begged so humbly, faithful from beginning to end.

Yan Xinfeng had accepted his fate long ago.

“You’re really not angry?” Wei Tingxia asked suspiciously. From the corner of his eye, he saw that in the Collapse Index Chart, the curve was still falling steadily, but as it approached a certain point, the descent clearly stalled, stuck at the critical value without moving.

Yan Xinfeng thought for a moment and sighed.

There was still a lingering sense of powerlessness in his eyes, the helpless and impotent look of gazing at something he cherished. He lifted his hand, his fingertip brushing over the scar on Wei Tingxia’s brow.

“Xiao Xia, there are many things you haven’t told me.” He said softly. “Do you think I’ll ever have a chance to know in this lifetime?”

Wei Tingxia blinked, meeting those eyes brimming with silent pleas.

They rarely talked like this.

The eldest young master of the Yan family was not the type to show weakness at heart. In his life, he had been pampered far more often than he had lowered his posture. He was not supposed to be the lowly one in this relationship.

Unfortunately, he had met Wei Tingxia.

One could only say everyone had their own reckoning. Yan Xinfeng’s occasional vulnerability was very moving, and Wei Tingxia found it hard to refuse.

“What do you want to know?” he asked in a low voice as well.

Yan Xinfeng did not answer immediately. Instead, he reached down and gripped Wei Tingxia’s slightly curled fingers, as if clutching the beat of his heart.

He murmured softly, “A lot. Too much.”

If you love me, why did you leave? If you don’t love me, why did you come back? What exactly is your relationship with Anders Eisenhoth? And…

“I want to know what rank you got in school, if you ever had pets and how long they lived. I want to know if you dream, your father’s name, your mother’s name, what you looked like as a child. I want to know if you always liked coffee or if you developed a taste for it later…”

Yan Xinfeng’s voice was like a dream. Wei Tingxia’s spine tensed, and he instinctively wanted to pull back, but he was yanked back harder, nearly dragged into the other’s embrace.

At the same time, Yan Xinfeng’s final words drifted lightly. “Xiao Xia, you know everything about me, but I know nothing about you. That’s not fair.”

But there had never been fairness between them. If Yan Xinfeng wanted fairness, he was demanding love.

People were indeed insatiable. Before, just having the person was enough. Now that they were truly married, he began demanding love.

Wei Tingxia lowered his gaze, his eyes fixed on their intertwined fingers.

After a long while, he slowly spoke, his voice rough and hoarse. “I was always top three in my grade. I had a rabbit once; it died later. Of course I dream. I have no father, and my mother is practically nonexistent. I have no childhood photos. Coffee… probably because my sense of taste degenerated.”

With that, he lifted his head. “What else do you want to know?”

Under his gaze, Yan Xinfeng’s lips pressed tightly together. For a moment, it seemed he could hear the frantic pounding of the mass of flesh and blood in his own chest.

What else? There was plenty.

He wanted to know every detail of Wei Tingxia’s life, hear every word from his heart. He wanted Wei Tingxia’s gaze forever on him, wanted to be cremated with him after death, their ashes inseparable, neither knowing you from me.

He was not a sound person. For the first nineteen years of his life, he thought himself normal, simply unaware of his own defects. The moment Wei Tingxia appeared, the illusory perfection he had built collapsed entirely.

Yan Xinfeng stood in the wreckage of his own brokenness, lit the lamp in his hand, and fell in love with the one who brought the disaster.

Wei Tingxia understood his silence.

At the edge of his vision, the Collapse Index came to a complete halt. From near collapse to stabilization, it took only half an hour, resolved with a few words.

Realizing he held such powerful, irresistible control over someone brought immense mental pleasure.

Wei Tingxia stared at the Index Chart for a long time, then let out a long breath.

Perhaps this was the best time to reveal the secret.

“Alright,” he relented. “Alright.”