Chapter 72: Exposed

The descent of the Storm came without warning.

The once-calm, windless afternoon transformed in an instant into a ferocious gale that toppled trees and demolished buildings. Torrential rain poured down with brutal fury as a reality-defying tornado formed in the blink of an eye. The supposedly sturdy Gongguan seemed to become a rickety thatched hut on the verge of collapse.

Thick clouds gathered above the Gongguan, rumbling thunder echoing from within them. The front doors and every window on every floor shattered into fragments in a heartbeat. Water from the swimming pool surged several meters high before crashing back down like an early downpour. Several people were hurled straight into the pool by the wind, while those on the shore devolved into a chaotic scrum—more plunges into the water followed amid the shoving.

Screams and curses mingled with the clatter of objects toppling over and a cacophony of frantic footsteps. The Gongguan had turned into utter chaos. By contrast, the eye of the storm felt eerily serene.

In the room forcibly “ventilated” by the gale, only one person was still sobbing uncontrollably. Liu Nian huddled on the floor, trembling, tears and snot streaming down his face as he wailed without end.

High risk, high reward.

Liu Nian had heard the horror stories and seen the pitiful aftermath for others before—mocking those who’d chosen this path only to soil themselves in terror when karma bit back. He’d fantasized about how he’d nimbly navigate it himself, turning weakness into strength. But now, with real agony crashing over him, Liu Nian realized in a split second that he was no more prepared than they were.

Regret, however, was utterly useless here.

“Which part did you touch?” The foot grinding into him demanded, pressing down harder and eliciting a more pitiful howl.

“N-none! I didn’t do anything—it wasn’t my idea!”

Liu Nian shrieked instinctively, only to draw the short straw. Agony flared sharper in his wrist, forcing him to backpedal as his voice cracked toward a breaking point: “No! I was wrong! I was wrong! Don’t—!”

Beyond the pain, what terrified him most was the sensation of something razor-sharp and invisible—like a circular blade—pressing against the fragile skin of his throat. One twitch, and it would draw blood. It scared him out of his wits. Then, the other person in the room, whom he’d forgotten amid his panic, spoke up: “Xie Qi.”

The strikingly handsome stranger bore no resemblance to the Lin Xun in Liu Nian’s memory. He glanced indifferently at Liu Nian and said flatly, “Let him go.”

“Let him go?”

Xie Qi was wrapped in barely contained savagery. He stared intently at Liu Nian, as if he’d heard the punchline of some cosmic joke, and persisted stubbornly: “You think he’s some saint? He was just trying to pin it all on you!”

“You think he’s so pitiful, after all the rotten shit he’s done?”

With every word, Xie Qi ground his foot harder. Liu Nian, who’d been screaming moments before, fell silent. The airflow constricting his throat tightened, stripping the oxygen from around his face. His lungs starved, mouth gaping wide, legs kicking futilely at the floor. His eyes began to roll back white.

The sight was gruesome and chilling. Wen Jiang asked calmly, “So, you’re going to kill him right in front of me?”

Xie Qi wasn’t intimidating him. His tone dipped lower, sharpening with unyielding resolve as he repeated: “Let him go.”

Xie Qi held his breath, fists clenched white-knuckled. Air whistled and rampaged through the room, out of control.

They locked eyes for two seconds. Xie Qi ground his teeth—then released Liu Nian. The wind swept him out the door with a shriek. He tumbled across the floor, slammed into the wall, and passed out.

Wen Jiang glanced outside. Still alive—good enough.

“…Come back with me.” Xie Qi took a deep breath and said. He stepped forward, his foot kicking something: the box of condoms Liu Nian had been holding.

The crumpled, torn-open box revealed its contents, stabbing like a knife into his heart with every beat.

Xie Qi already felt pain ripping through his entire body—he hadn’t thought it could hurt more. The wind sliced a long gash into the nearby wall. He endured it, endured it… then kicked over a low cabinet with a crash. Panting raggedly, he growled: “You let this thing touch you.”

…Wait, nothing even happened—look, our clothes are still on just fine? Wen Jiang fell silent for a beat, his gaze sweeping over Xie Qi’s bleeding wrist, bare where the Suppressor should have been. He lowered his eyes and removed his own bracelet as well.

A disturbance of this magnitude couldn’t be glossed over. An S-Grade Lifestyle System Supernatural Ability unfurled in the space. Though it didn’t “attack” Xie Qi, it bluntly demonstrated its rejection of the Storm without hesitation. Xie Qi’s body shuddered; the room’s air currents grew even more chaotic.

Yet those raging gusts shredded tables, chairs, and walls—but couldn’t even ruffle Wen Jiang’s clothes. Xie Qi turned away, eyes bloodshot, repeating: “Come back with me.”

“…”

This didn’t look like a simple “come back.”

Realizing a massive misunderstanding likely loomed between them, Wen Jiang suddenly pieced together so many of Xie Qi’s behaviors. Every reaction now seemed to corroborate his suspicions. He paused, then said: “You’re going to lock me up?”

“…Yeah. Got a problem with that?” Xie Qi shot back, on the verge of losing it. He was reverting to that old, volatile young master—especially unrestrained in front of Wen Jiang. One moment persuadable, the next exploding in unreasoning rage.

Xie Qi clawed at his hair, then slammed another kick into the cabinet with a muffled bang. He snarled viciously: “Fuck, I’m such a masochist!”

“Wen Jiang, I have no fucking clue what you’re thinking. Is jerking me around that fun?” Xie Qi closed the distance in two strides, seizing Wen Jiang’s arm. Blood from his wrist splattered the floor in dark blooms, but he seemed oblivious to the pain, ranting on: “But whatever! Doesn’t matter! This shit—”

He crushed the box beneath his foot. “I don’t fucking care! But anyone else? Dream on!” Xie Qi bellowed: “Wen Jiang, you came to me first! I’m your boyfriend! You—”

“Xie Qi.” Wen Jiang cut in abruptly: “We’re not dating.”

All the chaos silenced in an instant, plunging them into deathly stillness. Wen Jiang opened his mouth to continue—then stopped, his gaze shifting to the destroyed window outside.

The hand gripping him froze rigid. Then, Wen Jiang felt a breeze stir his hair.

The clouds lowered. White light flashed. Thunder boomed outside, and the anomalous storm raged on.

At the same time, that hand regained some strength—but the arm began to tremble faintly. Xie Qi turned, like a man long mute rediscovering his voice. His face drained pale as he stared at Wen Jiang for seconds, all his earlier fire extinguished. Hoarsely, he asked: “…You want to break up with me?”

“No, I won’t break up with you,” he rushed on, averting his eyes and babbling to himself: “Don’t even think about it, I…”

“It’s not breaking up.” Wen Jiang interrupted his monologue, stripping away any escape: “We were never dating to begin with.”

“We—” Xie Qi started urgently, but the words died. He stared blankly into Wen Jiang’s clear eyes, like prey cornered with no way out.

“You want to break up with me.”

Xie Qi looked away, muttering it again under his breath—half-convinced, half-panicked: “You think I’m too controlling? Fuck, I’ve been openly cuckolded right to my face, and you want me to play blind? Then I—”

He faltered, unable to voice the deeper humiliation. His grip on Wen Jiang tightened desperately, clutching at a gossamer thread of fate. His chest heaved. Hoarsely: “No. Not this. You can’t leave me. You and I—”

“…No.”

Wen Jiang felt the tremors in that hand, but he lowered his gaze and shook his head gently in the face of Xie Qi’s near-begging stare—denying him any delusion: “We were never dating from the start.”

“—”

The last color drained from Xie Qi’s face. He staggered back a step, as if clubbed senseless. The world spun, all hues bleeding into panicked gray.

Never dating.

Never?

Impossible.

But clearly—clearly—

He’d received…

A deafening crash echoed outside. Fat raindrops pelted down.

A tottering skyscraper needed only the gentlest push to crumble. The Absolute Trust ability dissolved amid the thunder, shattering a long self-delusion. Past doubts, confusions, regrets wove into irrefutable evidence he could no longer ignore.

Xie Qi stared at Wen Jiang, feeling that faint voice buried deep in his heart sigh… then vanish.

Then, a chill seeped into his fingertips, his flesh, his organs.

Finally, Xie Qi spoke: “…You’re messing with me, right?”

He stared fixedly, repeating: “You’re messing with me, right?”

Just like with Lin Xun, with Wen Tianlu, with every audience—you’re so clever, your acting flawless. One lie, and you ensnare hearts, spinning them in your palm willingly.

But Wen Jiang just looked at him.

The rain intensified into a curtain. A tiny red dot pierced it—like a feeble flame—landing on Xie Qi’s back.

The downpour was no true barrier. The real issue was the invisible wind wall encircling the Gongguan, shielding Xie Qi impenetrably. Remote tranquilizers couldn’t penetrate.

“You got the text, didn’t you?” Wen Jiang asked over the roar.

An S-Grade performance-type esper excelled at acting. He pierced inner desires, turning fantasies into vivid reality. He exploited fleeting dreams to create disorienting lulls.

But now, that power retracted fully.

The Dramatic Stage ability withdrew. In the literal sense, Wen Jiang became ordinary, fragile, defenseless. Wind tugged at his clothes as he approached Xie Qi, ignoring the room’s lacerating gusts.

He cupped Xie Qi’s cheek gently—no illusions granted: “It was a misunderstanding. I didn’t send that text. We were never dating.”

“Don’t move. Don’t look back. Don’t resist.” His fingertips were cruelly tender, unenhanced by any power to induce obedience, yet Wen Jiang commanded with utter certainty, softly: “Xie Qi, call off the wind.”

“…” Xie Qi stared blankly into those abyss-like eyes, throat bobbing. He opened his mouth: “I…”

Bang!

Someone on the helicopter pulled the trigger. With the wind wall down, the next instant, Xie Qi pitched forward, collapsing straight into Wen Jiang’s arms. He clutched instinctively at Wen Jiang’s arm—then it slipped limply away.

Wen Jiang caught him, eyes dropping to the tiny Supernatural Inhibitor Needle embedded in Xie Qi’s back.

Rain sprayed through the nearly obliterated walls, drumming a frantic rhythm—then fell silent. It arrived with fury, departed cleanly, vanishing like an abrupt scene change in an unresolved play.

The anomalous weather from the rampage dispersed. Clouds parted; sunlight poured through, gilding the Gongguan in pale gold.

The crowds had been evacuated unnoticed. The surroundings felt almost serene. Only the haphazard gashes on the walls, toppled furniture, scattered debris, rubble, and shattered remnants warned of the recent mayhem.

Wen Jiang reached out and gently extracted the needle.

After the Storm, he was a butterfly untouched even by dampened wings.