Chapter 68 Part 1

Boom!

A deafening thunderclap rattled the window outside, casting light on a messy corner of the villa’s living room.

Empty bottles lay scattered haphazardly across the coffee table, cigarette butts piled up in the ashtray like a tangled mess, and the air hung thick with the mingled stench of smoke and stale booze.

Xi Zhui slumped dejectedly on the carpet, head bowed, as if someone had drained every last drop of his energy and spirit.

His hair was a tangled wreck, stubble sprouting unkempt on his chin in a way it never would have before, his face gaunt and haggard. His bloodshot eyes and the dark circles beneath them were stark proof of a sleepless night.

In the blink of an eye, another bolt of lightning crashed down!

After sitting motionless for what felt like ages, Xi Zhui finally stirred. But he didn’t get up. Instead, he hunched his shoulders and slowly reached for the cigarette pack on the table once more.

The once-full pack now held just a single cigarette.

“…”

Xi Zhui had never been this hooked on smokes and liquor before. Even during the most grueling shoots, he’d always held back, limiting himself to just one.

But now, his emotions had spiraled completely out of control.

He slipped the last cigarette between his lips and grabbed the lighter from beside him with practiced ease. Click—the flickering flame seemed to spite him deliberately, scorching his fingertip in an instant.

“Hiss!”

Irritated, Xi Zhui flung the lighter away. The next second, his phone buzzed on the sofa with an incoming call.

Bzzz.

He whipped his head around for a quick glance. It wasn’t the name he’d been desperately hoping for—just a call from his childhood buddy, Shen Zhaoye.

A beat late, he answered. “Yeah?”

“What’s up? I WeChatted you, but no reply,” Shen Zhaoye said from the other end.

“Nope.”

Home alone, Xi Zhui tapped the speaker icon, set the phone on the table, and picked up the lighter again. “What’s going on this early in the morning?”

“Early in the morning?”

Shen Zhaoye picked up on the uncharacteristic slump in his tone. “What time zone are you even on? It’s already four in the afternoon here in Hua Country.”

“…”

Xi Zhui glanced at the time in the upper right corner of his phone screen.

Sure enough—four p.m. Twenty hours had passed since he’d stumbled home last night, and he hadn’t even noticed.

Shen Zhaoye pressed on in the silence. “Xi Zhui, what happened?”

“Nothing.”

Xi Zhui lit the cigarette at last and took a deep drag, hoping the nicotine would numb the relentless ache in his chest. “What do you need?”

Straight to the point, Shen Zhaoye replied, “I got the results on that guy Chang Ming you asked me to look into a few days back.”

Xi Zhui’s fingers tightened around the cigarette, the smoke deepening the shadows in his eyes. “What’d you find?”

Shen Zhaoye had already sent the detailed files via WeChat, but he gave a quick rundown anyway. “Chang Ming’s parents split when he was a kid. He was originally placed with his dad, but in middle school—eighth grade—his father died in an accident. He took the compensation money and went to live with his biological mom.”

“His mom never remarried. They weren’t well-off; she raised him scraping by on a late-night food stall.”

“Chang Ming went to Imperial Capital Film Academy for college, graduated without a hitch, then got involved in Wen Chaosheng’s new movie, Cloud End.”

Xi Zhui couldn’t help pressing. “And then?”

Shen Zhaoye went on. “I had my assistant check out that detective agency you mentioned before and got in touch with the people in charge.”

“The agency’s still around, but the two investigators who handled your case six years ago both quit. Their contact info on file is dead.”

It had taken serious legwork—and five or six days—to track down those ex-employees.

“I had my assistant grease some palms, and one of them finally came clean. They admitted to taking a bribe to fake their report back then.”

“…”

Xi Zhui paused mid-drag, his gaze darkening. “What do you mean?”

Shen Zhaoye explained. “They screwed up on the ‘surveillance’ job and got spotted by Chang Ming.”

“He threatened them with a privacy invasion lawsuit, even talked about suing the agency.”

“You were the client, a Hua Country guy dealing remotely by email and online, so the agency dragged their feet—took your fat fee but sent two low-level grunts. No way they wanted to risk their jobs.”

So after the verbal threats, Chang Ming dangled a hefty bribe.

“He offered them another way out: They picked a photo that looked ‘intimate’ enough, faked it to make him look like Wen Chaosheng’s boyfriend, and used the ‘caught tailing us’ excuse to send you that half-true, half-fake email.”

“Oh, and they prepped for you not buying it.”

“If you’d flown out back then, they’d have tipped off Chang Ming ahead of time so you could ‘witness’ him and Wen Chaosheng together in some cozy scene from afar.”

Xi Zhui’s eyes turned icy. “For real?”

Shen Zhaoye had confirmed it personally, even recorded it. “Yeah. Everything about this—Wen Chaosheng was in the dark, just like you.”

Money talks. The guy hadn’t just confessed; he’d dug up the old bank transfer from Chang Ming as proof.

It was crystal clear now: Chang Ming had been nursing feelings for Wen Chaosheng for six whole years.

“That ex-employee also said Chang Ming was already in the wheelchair by then. Wen Chaosheng was running around taking care of him. They tailed them for nearly ten days, and…”

“And?”

“Most of the time, Wen Chaosheng looked worse off than Chang Ming.”

“…”

A stab of irrepressible pain flashed through Xi Zhui’s eyes. He recalled the few honest words Wen Chaosheng had let slip:

—Chang Ming got disabled from a high fall while shooting Cloud End.

—I stuck by Chang Ming overseas for treatment. Up until we came back to Hua Country, we were basically living together.

Shen Zhaoye continued. “I pulled some strings to quietly search records from major specialty hospitals. Yeah, Chang Ming shows up in a few—long timeline, big bills each time, all paid under Wen Chaosheng’s name.”

Xi Zhui crushed out the spent cigarette in the ashtray. The resentment clogging his chest dissolved once more into heartache.

He had to admit it: Last night, Wen Chaosheng’s hot-and-cold attitude had pissed him off royally. But the second he’d walked out of that apartment building, regret had hit hard. It was just that scrap of pride holding him back from turning around.

The faint tremor in his breath didn’t escape the phone’s pickup. Shen Zhaoye fell quiet for a few seconds before speaking again. “Xi Zhui, I can’t say for sure what accident left Chang Ming paralyzed, but based on the timeline we’ve got—”

“He vanished after wrapping Cloud End. Barely any trace of him online.”

Shen Zhaoye paused meaningfully. “You probably know more about that than I do?”

Cloud End wasn’t just Chang Ming’s starring role; it was Wen Chaosheng’s directorial debut.

As someone deep in the industry, Xi Zhui knew the red flags. “Accident on set, but someone paid to bury the news.”

Shen Zhaoye zeroed in. “For their own gain? Wen Chaosheng or the investors?”

“Chaosheng would never!”

Xi Zhui shot it down instantly. “He’s got a strong moral compass. If an actor gets hurt on his watch, it eats him up more than anyone. No way he’d dodge responsibility.”

Shen Zhaoye agreed. “Fair point. If he were that selfish, he could’ve just bailed after. No need to stick around nursing Chang Ming.”

Not to mention, six years of medical bills blew past any standard production insurance payout.

“Boss, NE Brand’s VP is here.”

An assistant’s voice suddenly cut in from Shen Zhaoye’s end.

Xi Zhui didn’t keep his friend longer. “Zhao Ye, go handle your stuff. Thanks for this.”

Shen Zhaoye didn’t drag it out. “Cool. Talk later.”

The call ended.

But Xi Zhui’s heavy mood didn’t lift an inch. Then another call came in.

He pushed down the queasiness from an all-nighter of booze and picked up. “Yeah, Sister Hui.”

Wen Hui dove right in. “Xi Zhui, tomorrow’s flight is at four p.m. I’ve got Xiao Chao heading your way at eleven with the makeup team. No VIP lane at the airport—I’ve looped in the fan club and press on the spot.”

“It’s your first public service gig post-award, so we need some airport departure shots for promo.”

“…”

Xi Zhui thought of the shoot’s length—and Wen Chaosheng’s obvious turmoil. For once, hesitation creased his brow.

Knowing he was in the wrong, he asked, “Sister Hui, can we postpone or cancel this shoot?”

Wen Hui went dead silent for a long moment before blurting, “Xi Zhui, you’re joking, right?”

“It’s a CCTV slot—shooting starts in two days! Backing out now? You know what that means?”

“The Hundred Flowers Award buzz is still hot. Eyes everywhere, people dying to pick you apart for scraps.”

Ever the pro agent, Wen Hui shut it down. “Unless it’s force majeure, you’re going. You’ve busted your ass all these years—no sense letting them paint you as a flaky diva who ghosts at the last second.”

Xi Zhui reined in his reckless impulse. “Sorry, I didn’t think it through.”

Wen Hui eased up. “If you’re sick or there’s an emergency, I’ll try rescheduling. But the shoot’s on—five or six days tops. Play ball, and after, group up or vacation, whatever.”

Xi Zhui sighed. “Nah, stick to the plan.”

Wen Chaosheng had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with him. What was the point of sticking around Haishi City? Show up begging?

Why, though?

Why wouldn’t he just come clean?

Xi Zhui recalled every moment since his reunion with Wen Chaosheng. It took him a long while before he finally picked up his phone and dialed a number.

After a brief wait, the call connected. “Hello? Xiao Zhui.”

Shen Ruo’s voice brimmed with amusement. “It’s rare to hear from you reaching out first. Not busy today?”

“Mom.”

Xi Zhui let out a quiet call, rarely turning to his family for help. “C-Can I ask you for a favor?”

Shen Ruo picked up on the strain in her son’s voice right away. “What’s wrong? Tell me. If Mom can help, I will.”

Xi Zhui drew in a deep breath. “Could you help me get in touch with Uncle Wen and Auntie Song?”

He knew full well that the Wen couple had opposed their relationship back then, but he had decided to face it head-on. “I’d like to set up a time to meet—or at least talk on the phone. There’s something I want to ask about Chaosheng.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line from Shen Ruo. “All right. Mom will reach out to them for you.”

…

Wen Chaosheng woke up in the hospital.

The pain wracking his body ebbed away like a receding tide, though the dizziness clouding his mind lingered. He stared up at the vast white ceiling, his thoughts a chaotic fog. For the moment, he couldn’t remember where he was or what had happened.