The local police station was just a stone’s throw from the hospital. After receiving the alert, officers arrived at the hospital room in short order.
Chang Xiaomei had never faced anything like this before. Her face drained of what little color it had left.
Without her son’s cunning counsel to prop her up, she was bereft of her pillar of support. Gone was the unreasonable nagging and suicidal threats she’d hurled at Wen Chaosheng. Instead, she claimed she had only come to visit him and caused no trouble.
But Wen Chunshen and Xi Zhui, the ones who had called the police, stood firm.
The officers pulled up surveillance footage from the hallway, confirming Chang Xiaomei’s strong suspicion of loitering suspiciously.
Confronted with ironclad video evidence, Chang Xiaomei reverted to her shameless ways. She wailed at the top of her lungs, “Chaosheng! You can’t do this to me! If the police take me away, what will happen to Xiao Ming all alone in the hospital? Chaosheng!”
“Teacher Song! You’re a mother too—you have to understand!”
“I did it all for the child! Just let our mother and son off the hook this once. I’m begging you!”
“…”
Such shrieking drew no sympathy from anyone.
The police were well aware of the online backlash from the past couple of days. After verifying that Chang Xiaomei and Chang Ming were indeed mother and son, they handled the matter by the book and hauled her away.
In the room next door, separated by just a single wall,
Song Xuelan listened as the commotion faded into the distance. Only then did the knot of stifled frustration in her chest begin to loosen.
Truth be told, she and her husband had never been the heartless sort. They always handled things with restraint and decorum.
But the things that mother-son duo from the Chang Family had done to Wen Chaosheng over the years were utterly despicable. They’d done every rotten thing imaginable and now had the gall to beg for their mercy? As if it would be that easy!
As his parents, they had to secure real justice for their son, come what may.
Wen Chaosheng took the initiative to pour Song Xuelan a cup of warm water, soothing her. “Mom, I’m okay now. Don’t let this upset you—it’s not worth it.”
Song Xuelan let out a sigh. Despite herself, her eyes brimmed with heartache as she looked at him. In the end, she simply pulled him into a hug. “Shengsheng, I’m sorry. It’s all because Mom didn’t look after you closely enough. You went through so much and never even said a word.”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng felt the familiar warmth radiating from his mother, and a lump rose in his throat. “No, it was my fault. I didn’t handle things well and made you worry.”
Song Xuelan choked back a sob. “Promise Mom you’ll never do anything foolish like that again.”
Wen Chaosheng patted her back, offering reassurance. “I promise. I won’t be foolish anymore.”
Wen Chunshen stepped through the door just in time to catch sight of mother and son locked in their embrace. He couldn’t help but be moved.
Father and son met each other’s gaze, then looked away in awkward unison.
Reserved men by nature and blood, they had no idea how to break the ice after so many years apart.
Fortunately, Song Xuelan—ever the mediator—sprang into action. She wiped her eyes clean and turned to her husband. “Old Wen, hurry and bring over those two thermal containers. We’ve kept Shengsheng waiting so long—he must be starving.”
“Right away.”
Wen Chunshen did as told without hesitation.
Song Xuelan rose to help, arranging the lovingly prepared dishes across the small dining table beside the bed. “Shengsheng, you know Mom’s no chef. Your dad made all this himself.”
“He even checked with the doctor first. It’s all nutritious stuff you can eat.”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng stared at the dishes, still steaming and fragrant. Something in his eyes softened.
At his wife’s pointed glance, Wen Chunshen offered him a pair of freshly wiped chopsticks. “Give it a try?”
The renowned director who ruled film sets with an iron fist now felt an inexplicable awkwardness in the presence of the son he hadn’t spoken to in years.
Wen Chaosheng took it all in, waves of heartache, self-reproach, and guilt swelling in his chest.
He reached out and took the chopsticks from Wen Chunshen’s hand. After all these years, the word finally came willingly to his lips. “Dad.”
Wen Chunshen exhaled in relief. “Yes.”
A faint tremor undercut his voice as he voiced the apology long overdue. “Chaosheng, your dad owes you one.”
Be it the slap he’d dealt out years ago in opposition to that romance, or the way he’d handled the aftermath of the accident—he had viewed everything through his own narrow lens, acting with ruthless authority while ignoring his son’s feelings as the one most involved.
In the years since, Wen Chunshen had come to see it clearly.
No amount of outside opinion could compare to his own son’s happiness.
He seized the moment to make his stance plain. “From here on, as long as you’re doing well, Dad will back whatever you choose. No more meddling from me.”
Wen Chaosheng’s grip tightened on his chopsticks as he reflected on his own stubbornness. “Dad, I’ve made mistakes too. These years, I’ve only caused you and Mom worry. I’m sorry.”
“Enough of that. Fathers and sons don’t nurse grudges overnight.”
Song Xuelan beamed at the sight of father and son reconciling at last. “No more dredging up the past. From today forward, our little family of three—no fighting allowed.”
Wen Chunshen nodded and slid the chicken soup closer to Wen Chaosheng. “The soup’s best hot. Have some.”
Wen Chaosheng spooned up a couple of mouthfuls and nodded approval. “Delicious. Very fresh.”
Wen Chunshen broke into a grin. “Good—have more. The doctor said your constitution’s too frail. You need building up.”
But Wen Chaosheng didn’t dive right back in. His gaze drifted involuntarily toward the door.
A mother knew her son best.
Song Xuelan saw through him at once and spoke up on his behalf. “Where’s Xiao Zhui? Wasn’t he just with you talking to the police? How come he hasn’t come back?”
No sooner had the words left her mouth than Xi Zhui pushed open the half-closed door to the room. “Auntie Song, I’m right here.”
Wen Chaosheng met Xi Zhui’s eyes, and his own lit up in response.
Wen Chunshen caught every bit of that telltale glow on his son’s face and turned his attention to Xi Zhui. “What were you doing, hanging around outside instead of coming in?”
Xi Zhui faced his prospective father-in-law’s scrutiny without flinching. “Just waiting for Uncle Wen’s go-ahead.”
Truth be told, he had hung back deliberately, figuring the Wen family needed time alone after so long apart to sort through their knots and ease back into things.
“You little punk.”
Wen Chunshen was in high spirits and ribbed him lightly. “Reminds me of your old man back in the day.”
Xi Zhui chuckled and settled right beside Wen Chaosheng on the edge of the bed. “Uncle Wen’s handiwork looks mouthwatering. Dig in.”
Song Xuelan passed him a set of chopsticks and a small plate. “You too, Xiao Zhui. You’ve been run ragged looking after Shengsheng these past couple days.”
Xi Zhui accepted them. “Thank you, Auntie Song.”
Wen Chaosheng picked up a piece of sparerib and placed it in Xi Zhui’s plate, murmuring, “Try this. Dad’s spareribs are the best.”
The corners of Xi Zhui’s mouth curved up. Leaning in close, he whispered, “Thanks, Brother. I’ll cook for you next time.”
“Mm.”
Heat flooded Wen Chaosheng’s cheeks. Mindful of his parents watching, he ducked his head and shoveled rice into his mouth.
Wen Chunshen couldn’t miss the intimate bubble between the two young men. It felt a touch awkward, but also a relief.
If nothing else, the Xi Family was a known quantity—and they trusted Xi Zhui’s character implicitly.
After a moment, Wen Chunshen ventured a question. “Right, what’s the story with Chang Ming now? Did he get into more trouble?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng slowed in his eating, uncertain. “Something about a car accident?”
“Yeah.”
Xi Zhui hadn’t intended to let on, but with Chang Xiaomei showing up, the cat was out of the bag. He came clean. “Jin Zhao called me this morning. Right around the time of yesterday’s stream, the police station had already mobilized.”
Whale Shadow, in tandem with Xi Zhui’s studio, had filed the joint report.
Using the WeChat location pin Chang Ming had sent Wen Chaosheng, the police had zeroed in on the hotel room without trouble.
“But they underestimated just how unhinged Chang Ming was. No one saw the heavy-duty stun baton coming. He zapped an officer and tried to bolt in his powered wheelchair—only to get smashed by a car at the crossroads.”
Xi Zhui sketched the key details and wrapped with the outcome. “By the time they got him to the ER, his right arm and right leg were beyond saving.”
“With assaulting an officer on top, there’s police posted right here at the hospital, watching him.”
“…”
Seeing Wen Chaosheng fall silent, Xi Zhui grew concerned. “Chaosheng?”
Wen Chaosheng snapped back to the moment, meeting the worried looks from his lover and his parents. He understood their concern at once. “I’m fine, really. No pity for Chang Ming—just a bit reflective. Never thought it would come to this for him in the end.”
Back then, to “trap” Wen Chaosheng, Chang Ming had secretly sabotaged his own rehab, refusing checkups on his prosthetics.
To cling so obsessively to his own twisted path had led him here. He had only himself to blame.
Song Xuelan’s heart pounded as she listened, though she felt no shred of pity for Chang Ming. “Serves him right—hurt others and ended up destroying himself.”
Xi Zhui stood firm. “No matter his outcome, we can’t slack on holding him accountable.”
From the online smear campaign to the covert surveillance of Wen Chaosheng not long ago, and now yesterday’s assault on police—
Put it all together, and he had more than enough to rot in prison for life.
Xi Zhui went on. “I’ve handed it off to my legal team to handle everything. Chaosheng, you just focus on resting and recovering. Chang Ming’s out of your life now.”
He had consulted Bai Rui privately, analyzing the triggers for Wen Chaosheng’s psychological issues.
Chang Ming’s past manipulation and control ranked as a primary cause. No way was he letting that lunatic anywhere near Wen Chaosheng again.
Wen Chunshen approved of Xi Zhui’s methods and attitude. He asked, “Has the doctor said when Chaosheng can be discharged? Chang Xiaomei’s detention won’t last long. I’m worried she’ll come stirring up trouble again.”
Wen Chaosheng took another sip of chicken soup, feeling stronger by the minute. “I could probably go home today.”
Xi Zhui shot that down at once. “No chance. I’ll check with the doctor this afternoon. You’re not calling the shots on this.”
Wen Chaosheng deflated. “Oh. Okay, then.”
Song Xuelan hid a smile but didn’t take her son’s side.
Wen Chaosheng had always been so reserved about his own health and wellbeing. He really did need Xi Zhui keeping him in line.
“Let’s eat first. The food’s getting cold.”
“Okay.”
…
Two days later, the doctor finally allowed Wen Chaosheng to be discharged.
Although he had spent less than a week in the hospital room, there was still quite a bit to pack up before leaving.
Xi Zhui pulled a silver-black suitcase out from the metal cabinet and gestured toward Wen Chaosheng. “We can put the extra clothes and medicine in your suitcase for now, all right?”
Wen Chaosheng was caught off guard. “How did my suitcase end up here?”
Xi Zhui had been so focused on taking care of him that he had forgotten to bring it up. “The day of the incident, Xiao Chao stopped by your rental apartment and brought the suitcase along while he was at it.”
He set the suitcase at the foot of the bed and reached to undo the latches.
“Hey, wait a second—”
Wen Chaosheng didn’t have time to stop him before the case popped open.
Xi Zhui’s gaze landed on one side without a dust bag, and his eyes suddenly locked in place.
There were only a few items scattered there, but he recognized every single one.
A two-person photo from the wrap party for Contour. The clay figurine he had given Wen Chaosheng. The jacket he had handed off in Heng City. And inside the mesh dust-cover bag, a pile of individually packaged pills that hadn’t even been taken yet.
“…”
Xi Zhui held his breath as the shadow between his brows surged back.
He remembered Xiao Chao saying that Wen Chaosheng had cleaned the rental bedroom spotless, leaving behind only his electronic devices and this single, lonely suitcase.
Now it was clear: on that day, Wen Chaosheng had kept everything worth treasuring and abandoned his life-saving medication, setting off alone with Kuai Kuai to meet his end.
Xi Zhui’s fingertips went numb. He bowed his head, a dull ache settling in his chest.
Wen Chaosheng sensed his lover’s sinking mood and hurried closer. “Xi Zhui, I…”
In an instant, Xi Zhui pulled him into his arms, suppressing the chaos in his breath as he called out his name. “Wen Chaosheng.”
“Chaosheng…”
“I’m right here.”
The embrace was so tight that Wen Chaosheng struggled to draw breath.
But he still managed to free one hand and pat Xi Zhui’s rigid back. “Xi Zhui, I’m right here.”
Xi Zhui tilted his head slightly, quietly taking in the warm breath against his lover’s neck until calm gradually returned. “Brother, don’t ever leave me behind again.”
Wen Chaosheng replied, “I won’t. I couldn’t bear to leave you.”
Xi Zhui eased his grip and leaned in to nuzzle his nose against Wen Chaosheng’s. “Promise?”
“Mm.”
Wen Chaosheng murmured his agreement.
Suddenly, he remembered the treasures on the other side of the suitcase. He asked softly, “Xi Zhui, did you check out the other half?”
Xi Zhui blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
Wen Chaosheng reached over and tugged open the outer zipper on the dust cover himself. “Look—”
The more private side of the suitcase was filled with several gift boxes in different sizes.
Xi Zhui was still caught in the lingering ripples of fear and dread, slow to catch on. “What are these?”
“Gifts for you.”
Wen Chaosheng picked up one of the boxes and opened it to show him. “This tie is hand-embroidered. The moment I saw it, I pictured you wearing a suit and tie.”
Even though it had cost as much as a full month of his translation side gigs, Wen Chaosheng had bought it anyway.
He held the tie up against Xi Zhui’s chest and said with satisfaction, “It suits you perfectly.”
“And this—”
Wen Chaosheng pulled out a pair of sapphire-blue filigree cufflinks next. “The designer’s this famous Italian artisan. I waited almost two years on the list to get an appointment.”
“You’ve got so many formal events in your circle. If it fits, you could try wearing them sometime.”
“…”
Xi Zhui had a vague inkling of what was going on, his heart swelling.
He reached for one of the boxes on his own. “Can I open this one?”
“Of course.”
Inside was a brand-new, unopened medical wrist brace.
Wen Chaosheng recited its origin and purpose like an old treasure. “You mentioned in that interview once—back when you were filming, you twisted your wrist by accident. It still aches if you push too hard during workouts. I looked up a ton of recommendations, and everyone said this model works great.”
So Wen Chaosheng had scrimped and saved for half a year, buying the pricey brace right before Xi Zhui’s birthday.
He went on in the same vein. “And this game controller—I saw a same-sex couple testing out a pair when I was passing a mall that day.”
Even though he was a complete gaming newbie, utterly clueless about all the hot titles out there.
That day, he had stood outside the store window anyway, watching enviously for a long time. He couldn’t help dreaming. What if?
What if one day in the future, he got to see Xi Zhui again?
Even if not as lovers, maybe just as friends, playing a few rounds together?
But now, Wen Chaosheng finally felt bold enough to make a selfish request. “Xi Zhui, when you have time later, could you play with me? I remember you were amazing at games as a kid.”
Xi Zhui took a steadying breath, then wrapped an arm around his waist. “Sure. I’ll play with you as long as you want.”
“And this…”
Wen Chaosheng pulled out a small safety talisman. “I got it from the temple on your birthday.”
Xi Zhui’s throat bobbed. He understood everything now.
This half of the suitcase held the birthday gifts Wen Chaosheng had meant to give him over the past six years.
One every year. Never forgotten.
In those dark, lightless days, Wen Chaosheng had poured all his unspoken love into hunting down items, saving up, buying them, and hiding them away. He had clung to a faint, elusive hope for some distant future, inching closer to the one his heart yearned for.
And now, after all those years had passed…
Wen Chaosheng finally mustered the courage to hand over every last one.
Years of pent-up affection crashed down on a single person all at once.
Xi Zhui’s heart grew impossibly heavy, happiness and bitterness twisting together inside him. Afraid he might lose control in front of Wen Chaosheng again, he averted his gaze for the moment.
The next second, his eyes caught on a stack of scripts at the very bottom of the suitcase.
The cover faintly read Rotten Mud.
Xi Zhui drew it out himself, just in time to hear Wen Chaosheng say, “That’s the first draft of the Rotten Mud script.”
“A lot of the content and setup got revised for the version we’re shooting now, but I still wanted to give it to you as a gift.”
“…”
Xi Zhui flipped to the title page and clearly saw the lone name listed under “Lead Actor.”
Memories flooded back, misting his eyes.
—I’m telling you now: the lead in my first arthouse short has to be me. And the lead in my first commercial film? That’s gotta be me too.
—Deal.
From the moment he had first put pen to paper four years ago, Wen Chaosheng had already chosen his leading man.
The top spot in his film scripts would always belong to Xi Zhui.
