Chapter 64

Click.

The electric car door shut.

The dim yellow light beside the door illuminated Wen Chaosheng’s haggard, pale face.

Xi Zhui frowned with concern and took hold of the other’s icy hands. “What happened? Are you feeling unwell? Or did that Chang Ming say something to you?”

Wen Chaosheng trembled sharply at the mention of “Chang Ming.”

He pursed his lips and denied it. “I think I drank too much. I’ve been feeling off since earlier.”

Originally, Wen Chaosheng had planned to open up to Xi Zhui about some of his past experiences tonight, but Chang Ming’s sudden appearance had thrown all those plans into chaos. Just a few words of threat from the man had left him completely rattled.

The car halted at a roundabout due to a red light.

Old Zhang, the driver up front, glanced at the pair in the rearview mirror and asked, “Mr. Xi, where to next?”

“To Rong’an Mansion.”

Xi Zhui decided immediately, then turned to Wen Chaosheng beside him. “You’re resting at my place tonight. I’ve got hangover remedies at home.”

Wen Chaosheng met Xi Zhui’s concerned eyes, but his mind kept replaying Chang Ming’s sinister gaze and the threats laid out almost openly:

—Xi Zhui’s your ex, right? Seems he’s a film emperor now.

—And here I thought you’d gotten back together.

Alarms rang in his heart.

An uneasy premonition surged through Wen Chaosheng, and he yanked back the hand that had been warming in Xi Zhui’s grasp. “I’m not going!”

“…”

Xi Zhui’s palm went abruptly empty.

He sensed Wen Chaosheng’s clear resistance, and his own gaze flickered.

Old Zhang up front picked up on the subtle tension between them and asked cautiously, “Then… where to?”

Wen Chaosheng’s gaze fell vaguely on Xi Zhui’s face, a flash of pain and regret passing deep in his pupils.

He shouldn’t have gotten in the car just like that!

Chang Ming was already suspicious of his relationship with Xi Zhui. He needed to keep his distance!

Wen Chaosheng swallowed the bitterness at the base of his tongue and made a quiet request. “I… I want to go back to my own rental.”

Three seconds later, Xi Zhui rattled off the precise address of the apartment. “Old Zhang, head to the Azure Bay Apartment Building by the company.”

With that, he swiftly activated the partition between the front and rear compartments, sealing the back into its own private space.

“Wen Chaosheng.” Xi Zhui frowned at the man next to him and presented two options. “Do you want me to pry it out of you, or are you going to tell me yourself?”

“…”

Wen Chaosheng knew his earlier reaction had been far too abnormal and would inevitably spark Xi Zhui’s suspicions, but he just couldn’t fake nonchalance.

Chang Ming was like a time bomb implanted in him years ago.

Wen Chaosheng had believed that bomb had lost most of its potency and no longer posed a threat. But right at the moment he’d sought help and was about to disarm it, the countdown had started ticking louder and more terrifying than ever.

“…”

Xi Zhui stared, waiting. Wen Chaosheng kept his head down, silent.

The silence thickened in the already stifling air of the compartment. Their subtle standoff felt like a throwback to the tense early days of their reunion.

Neither of them relished the feeling.

After a long pause, Wen Chaosheng finally untangled some of his jumbled thoughts. “Chang Ming was the male lead I picked for the movie Cloud End back then.”

“Six years ago, he got into a severe accident overseas. To save his life, they amputated his left leg. His right leg…”

He choked, struggling. “His right leg didn’t heal properly. The muscles atrophied over time, so he gets around in a wheelchair now.”

Xi Zhui’s furrowed brow eased slightly at the long-overdue explanation. “So why’d he come looking for you tonight?”

“I haven’t had the chance to tell you yet—”

Wen Chaosheng twisted his hands together, trying to distract himself from the anxiety churning inside. “All these years, I’ve been with him overseas for his treatments. Up until I came back to the country, we were basically living together.”

Xi Zhui remembered that vaguely intimate photo the private detective had sent back then, and the old jealousy solidified in his chest stirred once more.

He hadn’t forgotten what that email had explicitly stated—

Wen Chaosheng’s “boyfriend” had found out about them and demanded all the photos be deleted.

Xi Zhui didn’t want to speculate on their relationship. He cut straight to it. “What kind of accident was it exactly? And why’d you stick around to help him through treatment?”

“…”

Wen Chaosheng opened his mouth but had no idea how to put it into words.

Chang Ming’s endless stream of complaints, accusations, and put-downs echoed relentlessly in his ears over the years—like an inescapable curse gripping his fragile nerves.

His physical discomfort surged again, stomach spasms hitting harder.

Wen Chaosheng tried to mask the pain twisting his face but still looked utterly wrecked. “Xi Zhui, I’m exhausted. I just… I need to rest a bit first.”

He knew he owed Xi Zhui a full, honest accounting, but he was truly too drained right now.

Wen Chaosheng had no desire to relive that agonizing accident from back then, or the pressure Chang Ming had piled on him all these years.

Right now, all he craved was a brief, warm refuge where he could retreat into his shell.

“…”

Chang Ming’s arrival had triggered an unprecedented sense of crisis in Xi Zhui. But confronted with Wen Chaosheng’s obviously off-kilter state, he swallowed every question.

“Alright. Not now, then.”

He flattened out both rear side seats and drew the nearly limp Wen Chaosheng down to lie with him. “If you’re tired, just rest. I’ll close my eyes and lie here with you, okay?”

The warm embrace and familiar scent delivered exactly the sense of security he needed.

Wen Chaosheng fought back the mounting sourness in his throat and surrendered to the closeness. “Mm.”

The car glided smoothly along the asphalt, rear heater blasting.

Body and mind utterly spent, Wen Chaosheng shut his eyes. But Chang Ming’s shadow loomed inescapably over his thoughts, refusing to fade.

—I give you one week to tie up any loose ends with these people or whatever. Then you’re coming back to Italy with me.

—Wen Chaosheng, you’ll obey like a good boy, won’t you?

“…”

No!

I don’t want to go back!

Wen Chaosheng’s eyes flew open in lingering shock, only for the seatbelt to yank him firmly back into the seat. “Hiss.”

Xi Zhui beside him hurriedly adjusted the seat’s angle. “What is it? Nightmare?”

Wen Chaosheng’s head pounded, and he shook it off.

He scanned the motionless scene beyond the window, his voice raspy with exhaustion. “We there already?”

“Yeah. Been parked less than ten minutes. Didn’t wake you since you were out cold.” Xi Zhui gave a quick explanation, then moved to unbuckle his seatbelt. “You’re up now—let’s go. I’ll walk you up.”

Finally snapping back to reality, Wen Chaosheng’s lingering rationality prompted a refusal. “Xi Zhui, I want to be alone tonight. You’ve got an early flight to the Imperial Capital tomorrow. Head home and get some rest.”

“…”

Xi Zhui froze mid-motion, eyeing him in confusion.

Guilty, Wen Chaosheng scrambled for an excuse. “My suite-mate’s back from New Year’s break. It’s late—you coming up with me wouldn’t be convenient.”

Xi Zhui was a big-name actor; the slightest thing could stir up gossip.

Wen Chaosheng didn’t want to get him in trouble. “If anyone spots you heading into my rental with me, it’d be a nightmare to explain.”

“…”

Xi Zhui drew a deep breath, unable to hold back. “Wen Chaosheng, are you worried about your roommate spotting me? Or are you just planning to dodge me again?”

“No, I’m really just beat.”

Wen Chaosheng denied it, though his words rang hollow by the end.

Xi Zhui spotted that long-absent flicker of evasion in his eyes and felt a twinge of unease. “Is it because of Chang Ming?”

He couldn’t shake the feeling that since the man showed up, some invisible wall had sprung up between them.

The throbbing headache stretched every second into eternity. Under Xi Zhui’s probing gaze, Wen Chaosheng felt guilt and torment in equal measure.

“Xi Zhui, I’m in rough shape tonight. Can we talk it out properly some other time?”

He’d already resolved to sever ties with Chang Ming as cleanly as possible. He just hadn’t counted on this disruptive curveball tonight.

Wen Chaosheng owned that Chang Ming had wrecked his emotions, triggering a double whammy of physical and mental distress. But he genuinely needed time to collect his thoughts, plot his next move, and then charge toward Xi Zhui with real resolve.

“…”

Even knowing there was evasion and omission in those words, Xi Zhui couldn’t bring himself to push. “Fine. Take your time.”

He’d weathered six years of agony; what was another moment?

Besides, he really did have to jet off to the Imperial Capital tomorrow for the Hundred Flowers Awards film festival, with interviews and announcements lined up—a round trip of at least four days.

Still, Xi Zhui fretted. “You gonna be okay solo at home? Come back with me instead?”

Wen Chaosheng mustered a faint smile. “Don’t worry about me. Kuai Kuai and Black Boss are waiting for me back home. Go crush the film festival tomorrow—no pressure. Award or no, you’re already incredible.”

Bolstered by the encouragement and care, Xi Zhui’s tension eased. “Alright. Get some early rest tonight. We’ll sort it out when I’m back from the Imperial Capital.”

“Mm.”

Xi Zhui watched until Wen Chaosheng disappeared upstairs.

Only when light spilled from the window of his apartment did he signal Old Zhang up front to pull away.

Streetlights streaked past the compartment, one after another.

In the shadows, Xi Zhui’s face hardened into a rare, steely edge the public seldom saw. All the bottled-up questions and nagging inconsistencies surged to the surface.

Wen Chaosheng’s reluctance to speak didn’t mean he couldn’t dig on his own.

Six years prior, freshly healed from his grievous injuries, Xi Zhui had let raw emotion override logic amid the shock of the breakup. He’d never zeroed in on the real crux.

Things were different now. Every oddity pointed squarely at this pivotal figure: Chang Ming.

Xi Zhui grabbed his phone and fired off a WeChat call without hesitation.

After only four or five rings, a cold, low voice answered from the other end. “Hello?”

“Zhao Ye.”

Xi Zhui called his old buddy by name and got straight to the point with his request for help. “You have a ton of contacts overseas. Can you look into something for me?”

Shen Zhaoye rarely heard Xi Zhui asking him for a favor. Without hesitation, he replied, “Shoot.”

…

As soon as the lights flicked on in the room, Black Boss poked its head out of its cage.

It flapped its wings happily to welcome Wen Chaosheng home. “Welcome back! I missed you so much!”

Wen Chaosheng rubbed the little head of his beloved pet. “Sorry, Black Boss. I can’t play with you and Kuai Kuai tonight. I’m beat and need some rest.”

Black Boss picked up on Wen Chaosheng’s low mood and, for once, wasn’t its usual playful self.

Wen Chaosheng headed into the bathroom stone-faced. After a quick wash-up, he rummaged through his suitcase once more and pulled out the small, well-hidden packet of meds he’d stashed away.

There was no drinking water in the room, and he didn’t have the energy to boil any. He swallowed the pills dry.

The familiar bitterness spread through him, seeping all the way down to his heart.

His last scraps of energy finally ebbed away. Wen Chaosheng switched off the light and climbed into bed, curling himself up completely under the covers in the darkness.

The medication gradually took effect.

Far from suppressing the rampant pain in his body, it dragged him into a damp, muddy nightmare.

Wen Chaosheng dreamed once again of Chang Ming’s fatal plunge, of the suicidal gashes on his wrists. Thick blood pooled across the floor, so red it nearly blinded him, blurring everything around him bit by bit.

Thump—thump—thump—

All he could hear were his own heartbeats and pulses growing heavier, morphing into the countdown of a ticking time bomb, each one pounding harder than the last.

Overwhelming despair assaulted his already fragile nerves until, at last—

Bang!

Wen Chaosheng jolted awake, his forehead drenched in cold sweat.

The night beyond the curtain’s gap remained thick and heavy. Dawn was still a long way off. Not only had he failed to recharge, but he felt an even deeper exhaustion, as if he’d overtaxed himself.

Wen Chaosheng buried half his face in the quilt and took several deep breaths. The faint lingering scent trapped inside became his sole “mental stimulant,” working its magic little by little.

He didn’t dare sink back into that nightmare. He lay rigid, refusing to sleep.

He watched the dim light through the gap gradually lighten until his overburdened body gave out, collapsing into a second, exhausted slumber.

…

Muffled voices drifted in from beyond the door.

Wen Chaosheng’s consciousness slowly stirred. His head still throbbed, and his throat—parched from lack of hydration for so long—felt raw.

He pushed through the discomfort and got out of bed, wanting to check the time first. But when he patted the pockets of his outer coat, both were flat and empty.

“…”

Where was his phone?

Had he left it at the wrap-up banquet last night?

Or had it slipped out in Xi Zhui’s car on the ride back?

Before Wen Chaosheng could dredge up an answer from his foggy mind, a knock sounded at the tightly shut bedroom door. “Mr. Wen? Are you in there?”

“…”

Wen Chaosheng recognized the somewhat familiar voice and froze.

The knocking continued. “Mr. Wen?”

With no choice, he threw on his coat from last night, approached the door, and unlocked it—leaving only a narrow crack for safety as he peered out. “May I ask who you are?”

“Oh, I’m the landlady.”

Standing outside was a stylish old auntie from Haishi City, her smile warm and kindly. “We’ve been coordinating over WeChat up until now. Happy New Year!”

Wen Chaosheng caught on and swung the bedroom door fully open. “Hello, Aunt Lin. Happy New Year to you too.”

Unsure, he asked, “Is there something you need from me?”

Aunt Lin handed over the gift box in her hands. “Here. Early this morning, someone reached out wanting to view the vacant room on the far left. I figured it was convenient, so I brought some New Year’s gifts for you other three tenants while I was at it.”

Wen Chaosheng was a little surprised. “Thank you.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a familiar rolling sound came from the room next door.

A cheerful voice followed right after. “Aunt Lin, I think this place looks great. But if I do end up renting, I might need to add some accessibility equipment. You wouldn’t mind, right?”

“…”

Wen Chaosheng spotted Chang Ming in his wheelchair and felt the world around him twist in an instant.

A sudden ringing in his ears drowned out all other sounds. He couldn’t make out what the two in front of him were saying next—until Aunt Lin beamed at him kindly once more. “Well, that’s perfect then.”

Zzzzt—

The electric hum faded.

Wen Chaosheng barely caught Aunt Lin’s words. “So Mr. Chang was referred by Mr. Wen? In that case, no worries at all.”

“If Mr. Chang moves in, you two can look out for each other. We can talk rent.”

“Thank you, Aunt Lin.”

Chang Ming was ever the picture of polite cheerfulness around outsiders. “I’ve seen the place now. I’ll think it over and get back to you in a couple days?”

Aunt Lin was straightforward. “No problem at all.”

“Aunt Lin, I won’t head down with you.” Chang Ming had no intention of leaving. He turned to Wen Chaosheng. “I need a quick word with him.”

“Sure thing. Take your time.”

Aunt Lin gave Wen Chaosheng another greeting before sauntering off with her “vegetable basket” purse.

Bang.

The sound of the front door closing snapped Wen Chaosheng out of his near-frozen thoughts. He stared at Chang Ming in the doorway of the left room and drew in a disbelieving breath. “Why are you here?”

Why?

He’d never told Chang Ming his current address, and the only two people who knew it—Xi Zhui and Song Ting—had no reason to cross paths with him!

Chang Ming maneuvered his wheelchair closer with a smile and held something out. “Brother Wen, you left your phone in my hotel room yesterday. I figured you’d be worried, so I brought it over myself.”

“…”

How was that possible?

He hadn’t even touched his phone when he’d walked Chang Ming back to his room last night. How could he have “left” it behind?

Wen Chaosheng’s suspicions deepened, but he snatched the phone back first thing. “Did you go through my phone?!”

Chang Ming looked genuinely aggrieved at the accusation. “Brother Wen, your phone has a passcode. How could I even look at it?”

“…”

The passcode was the date of the year he and Xi Zhui had gotten together—no third party knew it, and it was tough to crack.

Rather than feel relieved, Wen Chaosheng frowned and pressed, “So how exactly did you find this place?”

Chang Ming put on his usual mask of sweet compliance and gave him a heads-up. “Brother Wen, I can tell you, but promise you won’t get mad, okay?”

Wen Chaosheng stayed wary. “What is it?”

Chang Ming just smiled without a word and reached out to grab the hem of his coat.

“You—”

Wen Chaosheng instinctively tried to pull away, but Chang Ming was quicker. He slipped his hand into the coat pocket. “Don’t move.”

In just two or three seconds, Chang Ming fished out a flat, round black disc. “See? With this, it was easy. Gotta say, the tracking was spot-on.”

“…”

Wen Chaosheng stared at the innocuous black disc in Chang Ming’s hand. The surprise in his eyes slowly twisted into uncontrollable horror. “Chang Ming? You’ve been tracking my location?”