Chapter 37: HE Side Story (1) [Side Story]

“Doctor, why hasn’t he woken up yet?”

Shen Yu felt his consciousness turn into a fish, or perhaps a bouquet of flowers. He didn’t know where he came from, nor where he was supposed to go. He had no idea how long he had been drifting. He sank and floated in the deep sea, rising and falling with warm or cold ocean currents.

He had swum so long in the dark depths where no light reached that he nearly forgot he didn’t belong there. Suddenly, he heard a low male voice.

The voice was pleasant, like the vibration of strings in an orchestra, but it was hoarse—probably from not drinking water for a long time. It trembled slightly, sending a chill through the listener.

After the question, another voice rang out in the room. From the content, it belonged to a professional doctor.

“…There are indeed such cases. The patient heals but refuses to wake up. This may be related to psychological trauma suffered before the coma.”

The doctor in the white coat held the medical record in hand. He looked at the man sitting beside the bed and chose his words carefully. When he said the words “psychological trauma,” he paused. The room plunged into dead silence.

Shen Yu: “…”

Quack doctor! Quack doctor! Quack doctor!

Don’t slander him! He had no psychological trauma at all. His mental health was perfectly fine. How could this guy curse him out of nowhere?

In this suffocating silence, that hoarse voice spoke again: “Continue.”

Relieved by the direct response, the doctor continued.

“Before the coma, the patient must have gone through some terrible events. These caused severe psychological trauma, leading the patient to lose hope in life. With weakened survival instincts and an unwillingness to face reality, he refuses to wake up.”

Lose hope in life? Weakened survival instincts? Unwilling to face reality? And thus unwilling to wake up???

Shen Yu’s vision went black.

Shen Yu: Someone come, drag this quack doctor out and behead him for Zhen!

The man slumped his shoulders, his hands clenched tightly together. After a long silence, he asked the doctor, “Then… is there any treatment?”

The doctor said, “In most cases, only stimulation therapy works. Methods include sensory and environmental stimulation, clinical treatments, and neural regulation. Mr. Shen’s case is special. I recommend sensory stimulation—have family members call out to him, chat with him, and so on.”

“You can also use things he likes for olfactory and auditory stimulation: his favorite perfume, food, music.”

“Or use items he likes for tactile therapy.”

“In short, use these to stimulate his memory recovery. Let him recall the beauty of life and rekindle his hope.”

After this spiel, the doctor added a final reminder: “Oh, right—avoid exposing him to things he dislikes. It could backfire and further weaken his will to live.”

Shen Yu: Who buys that?

The air fell silent once more.

Clearly, someone did.

Shen Yu: “…”

Zhou Jinsheng, if you actually believe this, I, Shen Yu, will mock you for the rest of your life!

Shen Yu wanted to open his eyes, but for some reason, he couldn’t. A thin layer of light floated over his eyelids, sliding past like flowing water. He tried to call out to 007, but touched only emptiness.

Fine. Make the best of it.

He didn’t know why he hadn’t left this world for the next one, nor failed the mission and looped back. Instead, he remained here.

But his consciousness persisted. The World Will hadn’t erased him or banished him to the chaotic void between universes. He was still alive. That was good enough.

As long as he lived, infinite possibilities awaited.

As Shen Yu let his mind wander, he suddenly heard Zhou Jinsheng’s dark, hoarse voice: “I understand.”

Shen Yu: “…”

Bro, you actually believe it?

I’m really going to mock you forever, Zhou Jinsheng.

The next day, Shen Yu’s cheap parents showed up, trembling.

On the third day, his cheap older brother appeared, trembling.

On the fourth day, his cheap relatives arrived, trembling.

On the fifth day, his cheap classmates came, trembling.

On the sixth day, his cheap subordinates showed up, trembling.

Wait, what was with the sixth day? Who actually likes going to work?

For days on end, Shen Yu listened to this nonstop chatter. After a while, he even felt like they were talking about someone else. Their memories pieced together a brand-new version of him, as if he had lived another life.

Shen Yu treated it like listening to stories.

But one thing surprised Shen Yu greatly: Zhou Jinsheng hadn’t appeared again in all these days.

Shen Yu wasn’t certain. He could only identify people by their voices, so maybe Zhou Jinsheng had come but stayed silent, unnoticed.

As time passed, Shen Yu felt strength slowly returning to his body. Waking up was only a matter of time.

On the seventh day, He Qian showed up, trembling.

“Big bro, big bro, don’t point that gun! Careful it goes off!”

Shen Yu: “…”

He Qian’s familiar voice echoed in the room. Shen Yu finally understood why everyone approached so timidly.

“Isn’t it tactile therapy? Why can’t I touch Little Shen CEO’s hand?” He Qian’s voice rose high, as if threatened again. Then it dropped pathetically low: “Okay, I understand.”

He Qian sat by the bed and began chattering: about the movie, Shen Yu’s kindness in discovering him, how there’d be no movie without Shen Yu, how the crew awaited Shen Yu’s return, how this was their shared masterpiece and Shen Yu should get up to see it.

He said Shen Yu looked incredibly handsome in it. The stills had drawn tons of fans for his looks.

Finally, He Qian veered off-topic, saying he’d rather be the one lying in the hospital bed than Little Shen CEO.

Shen Yu was touched at first, thinking it wasn’t wasted effort. But it grew weirder. Dude, some things are best left unsaid—don’t fool yourself. You, heartless as you are, would take my hospital bed?

As he thought this, Shen Yu felt a chill on the back of his hand.

Tears?

Dude, why are you crying??

He Qian sobbed like a resentful little wife. Shen Yu couldn’t stand it. His finger twitched involuntarily—he itched to slap the guy silent.

“Holy shit! Little Shen CEO’s finger moved—”

He Qian’s sobs cut off. He let out a huge wail. Shen Yu’s ears nearly grew calluses, but luckily, someone else in the room couldn’t take it and dragged him out.

The fading voice sounded utterly miserable.

“Little Shen CEO, I’ll definitely come back—”

Shen Yu: …Don’t.

After He Qian left, a swarm of doctors rushed in and checked Shen Yu’s body. He heard them say things like “It’s working. Have that gentleman come more often.”

Shen Yu: “…”

Was it possible he was just grossed out by He Qian?

Once the doctors left, the room fell quiet again.

Too quiet. In the pin-drop silence, Shen Yu gradually heard another person’s breathing—faint, like exhaled breath that scattered instantly.

But it was there.

A long, long time later, Shen Yu heard a soft chuckle in the room. Yet it sounded more painful than crying.

Then, the door closed.

Very softly.

The day Shen Yu woke up was a bright spring day. He opened his eyes to brilliant sunlight spilling onto the floor. He turned his head and saw a vase on the bedside table, filled with fresh flowers still dotted with morning dew, sparkling in the light.

Doctors soon came to check him. Shen Yu immediately recognized the quack doctor’s voice among them. By noon, after the checkup, specialized nurses brought lunch.

Shen Yu spooned some chicken soup. From the taste and freshness, he knew it wasn’t hospital food.

Who made this?

Shen Yu stopped wondering. He lounged lazily on the bed, watching the sun filter through the leaves outside. He liked the sun. Sunlight felt like a gentle hand stroking away all gloom—whether dust on the heart or chill in the body.

After waking, many people visited Shen Yu one after another. Flowers piled up on the cabinet, forming a lavish little garden.

Under the world’s top medical team’s care, Shen Yu recovered quickly. He applied for early discharge. The staff hesitated, and naturally, the application was denied.

Shen Yu didn’t care. He wasn’t some delicate doll. He yanked out the IV, packed up, and checked himself out.

A few days of rest later, Shen Yu returned to Shen Corporation. The company was thriving, rising as Shangjing’s new elite—a stark contrast to the desolate months before.

Everything proceeded routinely. The only differences: no 007 in his head for banter, and Zhou Jinsheng had vanished from his life without a trace. Both felt like a dream.

Sometimes Shen Yu even wondered which world was real. But when he clenched his fist and felt his existence solidly, those fleeting thoughts dissipated.

Ding-a-ling—

The wind chimes rang as new customers entered the coffee shop. A young woman in a skirt suit hurried under the awning. She had dashed from the building across the street, blocked midway by a structure, so only faint dampness clung to her.

The rain had come suddenly. She brushed off the water while her gaze swept over the luxury car parked to the right outside the cafe.

Sure enough, she heard pedestrians whispering.

“Oh my god.”

“Just the maintenance on that car would last me lifetimes. Why’s it parked here?”

The woman tucked back her hair and glanced at the gossipers. The luxury car had appeared a few days ago, along with the man inside the cafe. But no one had ever seen anyone exit it.

At first, she thought it was the man’s car from the cafe. But whenever she left after lunch break, he was still there. Yet by the time she exited, the car was gone.

She dismissed the suspicion.

She gave a slight bow, lifted the curtain at the door, and entered the cafe. Her gaze instinctively fell on the young man by the window.

He sat in profile, looking out. On the rain-streaked glass, his handsome features faintly emerged.

He wore a white shirt up top, a black long tie dangling from his neck, trailing neatly down his chest to his waist. His waist was slim, his long legs sheathed in black trousers, tucked aggrievedly under the coffee table—hard not to spark fantasies.

Alone again?

The woman didn’t approach. Pure appreciation of beauty needed no proximity. She was a regular here. Since this gentleman appeared, foot traffic had boomed, though few dared chat him up.

She scanned the shop: even busier than usual today. The rain hadn’t just come fast—it poured fiercely, like a summer storm despite spring.

Half the shop was now rain-dodgers, damp with moisture.

This was a busy commercial street near the subway. With the sudden downpour, nearby convenience stores sold out of raincoats and umbrellas instantly. Most couldn’t get any and huddled here, anxiously watching the torrent, waiting it out.

The woman smoothed her disheveled hair and took her usual seat nearby.

Soft music played overhead. She stirred her coffee, listening to it blend with the rain, and yawned lazily. Following the window man’s gaze across the street, she saw the flower shop. Its owner was a beauty in a cheongsam.

She often bought flowers there.

It was a rainy day, the weather slightly overcast, shrouded in a layer of misty haze.

The glass window was streaked with water, turning slick and blurry, faintly reflecting human silhouettes. Perhaps because she stared too intently, the man seemed to notice something. His long lashes lifted slightly as he turned to look back at her.

The woman blinked.

Their gazes met. The handsome man froze for a moment, but he recovered quickly. His eyes shimmered like they held twin lines of water, and a smile curved his lips. He gave her a polite nod.

The woman startled and returned a proper smile. Once he withdrew his gaze and turned away, she felt her heart pounding nonstop, her face flushing red. She couldn’t help taking a deep breath to calm her racing pulse.

Separated by a layer of white porcelain, the warmth from the hot coffee in his palm gradually cooled to tepid, then cold.

Shen Yu withdrew his gaze, his dry fingertips lightly rubbing the surface of the cup.

Shangjing’s weather shifted unpredictably. Rain poured relentlessly outside the window, the air thick and humid. He had no idea how long it would take for the downpour to stop.

He was no different from the other pedestrians sheltering from the rain—he hadn’t brought an umbrella.

Shen Yu sighed. The rain outside grew heavier. In the cafe, a record spun slowly under the warm yellow lights, the needle rising and falling as it danced in circles along the grooves.

Electrical signals transformed through the speakers into captivating music that filled his ears, mingling with the patter of rain.

Shen Yu sighed again, raised a hand to signal the server for the bill. He straightened his cuffs, smoothed the wrinkles from his sleeves, and rose from his seat.

Shen Yu made his way out, only to be halted by the rain at the cafe door. He paused and lifted his gaze to the curtain of water outside.

Amid the rain curtain, cars shuttled through, pedestrians dashed about, and umbrellas dotted the scene like colorful specks.

The man standing at the door was tall and slender, with cold pale skin. His exposed fingers were beautiful, his face even more so, and his temperament ethereal. At that moment, his ink-black lashes drooped slightly. Simply standing there, he struck at countless fantasies of the ultimate beauty.

The air carried the scent of moisture. A gust of wind swept through, rattling the awning with a whoosh. Icy raindrops sprayed inward, drawing startled cries from the crowd sheltering there as they all retreated a step in unison.

The wind plastered his shirt to his body. Now soaked, it clung uncomfortably to his skin, and Shen Yu felt a chill.

This rain was truly annoying. Shen Yu took a step back as well, running a hand through his hair. It felt ice-cold to the touch—wet now, too.

Rainy days made it hard to hail a cab, and others huddled nearby waiting out the storm. Someone muttered curses at the wretched weather. Then, a luxury car that had been parked at the street corner suddenly pulled forward. Amid surprised stares, it stopped right at the cafe entrance.

The car door opened slowly.

A long leg stepped out. The man who emerged wore a dark overcoat. He was very tall, with broad shoulders, a handsome face, and sharp features that carried an icy, murderous aura, inspiring fear at first glance.

He unfurled a black umbrella in his hand, the dark canopy slowly blooming amid the downpour.

Raindrops pelted it like restless drumbeats, sliding off the edge to splatter on the ground and wet his black leather shoes.

Through the hazy water, Zhou Jinsheng’s gaze pierced the rain curtain and landed on Shen Yu.

But just as their eyes were about to meet, the man abruptly turned his head away, breaking contact first.

Shen Yu pursed his lips, silently watching the man who had vanished from his life for so long only to reappear now.

The rain drummed on endlessly. In his line of sight, the man splashed through the street’s puddles and strode over quickly, even bringing a blast of cold, damp wind.

Just as he was about to reach him, Zhou Jinsheng halted abruptly, as if struck by a sudden thought.

The man, radiating intimidating presence, held the umbrella and stopped a few dozen centimeters away. His expression was blurred by the mist, indistinct.

The wind stirred, setting the wind chimes on the porch tinkling.

The onlookers grew suspicious, sensing something off, and pricked up their ears toward them.

Shen Yu said nothing. Zhou Jinsheng extended the umbrella handle.

Zhou Jinsheng restrained his surging emotions, his fingers nearly snapping the handle. Seeing no movement from Shen Yu for a long moment, he lowered his lids, his voice low and husky: “The umbrella—don’t want it?”

Shen Yu: “…”

“Thanks.” Shen Yu sighed inwardly and reached for the umbrella.

As his fingers grasped the upper part of the handle, their hands brushed unintentionally. Scorching body heat spread like a virus through the contact.

Shen Yu tried to pull back, but it didn’t budge.

He glanced down. Zhou Jinsheng’s fingers clamped the handle like a vise, burning hot as branding irons. His mouth said he was delivering an umbrella, but his grip betrayed him utterly—no intention of letting go.

So Shen Yu released first. He sighed, knowing the doctor’s words still affected the man before him.

Truth be told, he truly hadn’t expected Zhou Jinsheng to buy such nonsense. Every time the man silently withdrew from his life, Shen Yu dragged him out in his mind and mocked him mercilessly.

If the atmosphere weren’t so tense, he might have burst out laughing.

Shen Yu pursed his lips, sighed inwardly, and took a step forward to close the distance between them.

He stood beside Zhou Jinsheng, shoulder to shoulder.

Zhou Jinsheng startled.

Shen Yu glanced at him: “Let’s go.”

Chilly threads of rain blew in. Shen Yu was dressed thinly; the muscles beneath his shirt chilled to a faint pink, rising and falling with his breaths, their outlines faintly visible through the fabric.

Zhou Jinsheng pursed his lips. Hearing those words, his fingers tightened on the handle. With uncharacteristic hesitation, he asked: “Where to?”

Shen Yu’s chilled lips, pale from the cold, parted slightly: “Home.”

Zhou Jinsheng didn’t quite process it at first, suddenly afraid to dwell on the implications. He pursed his lips and said to Shen Yu:

“Hold the umbrella first.”

Seeming to find his tone too harsh, the man’s sharp brows furrowed slightly. He added stiffly: “All right?”

“…”

Zhou Jinsheng, you’re even scarier like this.

A shiver ran through Shen Yu. His fingers gripped the handle and took the umbrella.

Zhou Jinsheng silently shrugged off his overcoat, then draped it open over Shen Yu’s shoulders. The fabric still held excess body heat, settling like a reassuring weight that instantly blocked the cold and rain, enveloping him in warmth—like a gentle embrace.

Zhou Jinsheng’s palm rested on his shoulder, adjusting the coat to ensure Shen Yu was fully wrapped before withdrawing his hand.

Shen Yu sniffed. Besides the cigar scent, he caught a faint whiff of perfume—not Zhou Jinsheng’s usual one. It resembled some kind of floral note, very subtle and pleasant.

Zhou Jinsheng took back the umbrella, his voice low: “Let’s go.”

The two entered the car one after another, soon vanishing into the rain curtain.

Outside, the rain wove densely; streets and pedestrians blurred into the background. This was the route back to Little Zhou Mountain. A partition separated the driver’s seat from the rear.

No one spoke. The car was quiet. Zhou Jinsheng silently raised the AC temperature, sending waves of warm air blowing.

Shen Yu removed the overcoat. His rain-soaked shirt clung uncomfortably. Zhou Jinsheng pulled a blanket from the side compartment and offered it.

Shen Yu: “I’ll change.”

“Mm.”

Zhou Jinsheng nodded and turned to face the window, not looking.

Shen Yu took the fluffy blanket, setting it aside. With two fingers, he tugged the black tie at his collar downward, untying it deftly. His fingers moved down to undo the buttons. The shirt slipped off, revealing muscles that stretched like snow-capped ranges.

The car left the street and entered a pitch-black tunnel.

His pale body bloomed silently in the darkness.

Below his straight, elegant shoulder and neck, on the right side of his chest, a round bullet scar marred the skin. The foreign intrusion had turned the flesh there a faint brown, stark and heart-wrenching against his cold white skin.

Zhou Jinsheng’s heart seized in violent pain. His fingers clenched fiercely, nails digging into his flesh. He almost couldn’t bear to look.