Chapter 66

Seeing that his goal had been achieved, Jing Chi didn’t do anything else. He nodded silently and pushed Yin Hexuan out through the side door.

At that moment, Jing Shu suddenly looked up toward the direction of the door from afar.

He had a feeling that the back figure who had just left seemed familiar, but it vanished in an instant, as if he had simply been mistaken.

Seeing the delicately handsome young man across from him looking somewhat dazed, Kong Zheyan blinked his alluring, upturned phoenix eyes and followed his gaze, but he didn’t see anything. He teased with a smile,

“What’s wrong, Little Shu? Did you spot another handsome guy? I might just get jealous, you know.”

He drew out his words, his lips curving slightly.

Jing Shu’s face flushed slightly at the man’s words, a hint of shyness in his brows and eyes. He quickly shook his head in denial,

“No, I was just looking around.”

Kong Zheyan didn’t care whether he was telling the truth or not. After all, he only had a mild interest in the person before him right now.

And the greatest source of that interest—besides Jing Shu’s alluring good looks—was simply to satisfy his own curiosity.

After all, Kong Zheyan wanted to know why the president of White Crane Group showed such exceptional favor to someone with such an ordinary background.

From the looks of it now, this person did seem somewhat intriguing.

.

After leaving the hotel, Jing Chi and the others headed straight for Yin Hexuan’s villa.

Along the way, Jing Chi knew that the man wasn’t in a great mood, so he didn’t provoke him and tried his best to minimize his own presence.

Yin Hexuan remained silent the entire time. This time, he didn’t close his eyes to rest; he simply gazed faintly at the night scenery outside the window.

Jing Chi didn’t know what he was thinking, but he could guess some of it.

It was undoubtedly about Jing Shu.

Finally, they arrived at the villa, and Jing Chi pushed Yin Hexuan out of the car.

He asked cautiously,

“President, do you need the auntie to prepare dinner for you?”

Jing Chi was just doing his duty as a competent employee by reminding him.

After all, the man’s health wasn’t great to begin with, and he didn’t eat on schedule.

Standing behind Yin Hexuan, Jing Chi naturally couldn’t see the man’s expression.

But he didn’t need to think to know it probably wasn’t pleasant.

Yin Hexuan didn’t even lift his eyelids. He simply ordered coldly, “Push me back to the bedroom.”

The man was already in a foul mood, so of course he had no appetite for food. Jing Chi had known this would be the outcome.

He pursed his lips, let out an “mm,” escorted the man to the bedroom, and then very sensibly stepped out first.

As luck would have it, the moment he left Yin Hexuan’s bedroom, his phone rang.

Jing Chi looked down and saw it was Special Assistant Zhou. He picked up the call:

“Special Assistant, what’s up?”

Zhou Bin hadn’t expected that he’d only been away for a short while, and yet—good grief—both the president and Jing Chi had vanished.

“Where are you?” He sounded a bit anxious.

Jing Chi then realized he’d forgotten about him, too busy giving Yin Hexuan an eyeful of Jing Shu. He said guiltily,

“Special Assistant, I forgot to tell you. The president suddenly wanted to leave in a hurry, so I brought him straight back to the villa.”

Special Assistant Zhou finally breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s fine, it’s fine.”

Suddenly, as if remembering something, he quickly asked, “Has the president had dinner yet?”

Jing Chi raised an eyebrow slightly at the question.

What a coincidence—this domineering president had a stomach issue too?

Jing Chi said he hadn’t, and sure enough, he heard the concerned tone from Special Assistant Zhou on the other end:

“That won’t do at all. Over the past six months, the president has been busy handling company matters, treating coffee like meals, and skipping proper ones regularly. That’s how he ended up with a stomach problem.”

“Little Jing, it’s too late for me to come over now. The president’s medicine is in the medicine box on the living room table—get it out for emergencies. I’ll have the auntie cook a bowl of plain porridge for him right now, and you take it in.”

Jing Chi couldn’t help but admire how thoughtful Special Assistant Zhou was. He replied,

“Got it, Special Assistant.”

A moment later, the auntie from the villa came over with a tray, on which sat a bowl of light porridge. She handed it to Jing Chi as per Zhou Bin’s instructions.

Jing Chi stood at the door to Yin Hexuan’s room, staring at the tightly shut door, hesitating for a moment.

He wasn’t sure if the man’s mood had improved. He probably wouldn’t get yelled at if he went in, right?

When had it ever been his turn to play the role of the liberated serf singing in triumph?

Jing Chi sighed and lightly knocked on the door with his hand. There was no response from inside.

He thought maybe he hadn’t knocked hard enough and knocked again, saying,

“President, can I come in?”

Still no sound. At this point, Jing Chi sensed something was off.

He frowned, balancing the tray with one hand while pressing down on the door handle with the other. With that, the door slowly creaked open.

The first thing that caught Jing Chi’s eye was the man’s back. He sat quietly by the window.

“President?” Jing Chi raised an eyebrow. He called out again, set his things aside, and walked over to Yin Hexuan’s side.

Only when he drew closer did he see that the man cradled an empty wine bottle in one arm while the other hung limply at his side.

His head was slightly bowed, disheveled bangs clinging messily to his forehead—a stark contrast to the impeccably groomed appearance he wore during the day. An unnatural flush colored his face.

Those eyes, deep and inky black by daylight, now drooped lazily half-open, half-closed, filled with nothing but hazy bewilderment.

Good grief. This man had actually gotten drunk over that Jing Shu—especially knowing full well he had a stomach condition.

Jing Chi felt a flicker of anger mingled with helplessness.

He wasn’t without understanding. Ever since the car accident, Yin Hexuan had walled himself off completely, cutting ties with nearly all his old friends.

The sole exception was Jing Shu, the man who had saved him and granted him, in essence, a second life. To him, Yin Hexuan had yielded repeatedly, shown boundless tolerance, and entrusted him with his complete faith.

But today’s events had shattered that illusion, forcing Yin Hexuan to confront the fragility of his trust.

Deception, after all, had a way of snowballing—one lie led to two, then three.

A man as sharp as him could hardly fail to realize this might not be Jing Shu’s first betrayal.

To offer total trust only to receive repeated deceit in return—how could someone like Yin Hexuan not feel heartbroken?

Even in the past, he had likely never held anyone so dear to his heart.

Yet the very person he cherished had plunged the knife.

The incident might seem trivial on the surface, but to Yin Hexuan, it laid bare a host of deeper problems.

Jing Chi squatted down in front of the man, positioning himself at eye level. Tentatively, he called out in a soft voice, “President, are you drunk?”

At the sound, Yin Hexuan merely lifted his eyelids a fraction, cast a lazy glance at him, then let them drift shut again. The upturned corners of his eyes glowed with a faint red tint.

Perfect. He was drunk, and thoroughly so.

Jing Chi wouldn’t hold back, then.

He reached out and prodded the man’s cheek, as if venting some pent-up frustration.

Inwardly, he couldn’t help but gripe.

Tsk tsk, hurting now, are we? Serves you right for blindly falling for that guy.

You really think Jing Shu saved you by pure chance? It was all because of your status.

If he were truly that benevolent—and knew when your accident was coming—why not just warn you to steer clear?

No need to wait until you were half-dead before swooping in like some messiah.

Jing Chi poked the man’s cheek again and again until the words slipped out unbidden. “Aren’t you supposed to be so clever? The big President, always toying with everyone else—now look who’s getting played for a fool.”

Only after the words left his mouth did he realize he’d voiced his inner thoughts aloud.

In that instant, Yin Hexuan’s hand shot up and clamped around Jing Chi’s wrist.

The sudden motion made Jing Chi instinctively hold his breath.

He widened his eyes, scrutinizing the man across from him.

But after that brief surge, Yin Hexuan went still once more.

Jing Chi exhaled softly, no longer daring to be so bold.

What if the man woke up midway? He’d be in real trouble.

Jing Chi stood, leaned down, and lifted Yin Hexuan from the wheelchair, carrying him to the bed.

He settled him onto the mattress and thoughtfully pulled the covers over him.

As for changing clothes—no way. Jing Chi doubted Yin Hexuan would ever let anyone else handle that.

A man as proud as him could hardly tolerate exposing his vulnerabilities to another’s gaze.

Like his crippled right leg, for instance.

Jing Chi had no interest in such a thankless task. Besides…

He rubbed his chin, imagining how this neat freak would suffer tomorrow upon waking to his own disheveled state.

The thought brought a spark of delight.

Mission accomplished. As he turned to leave, he caught Yin Hexuan’s lips moving faintly, as if murmuring something.

Curiosity drew Jing Chi closer.

In a flash, the man on the bed seized his arm and yanked him down onto the mattress.

Jing Chi braced himself with his hands against the bed. Glancing down, he realized just how close he was to Yin Hexuan now.

Close enough that, if he wanted, a mere dip of his head would press his lips to the man’s cheek.

Jing Chi couldn’t help but wonder if he was truly drunk or merely pretending—that pull had been far too smooth and practiced.

Jing Chi carefully rolled over. The motion took nearly every ounce of strength he had left. Without anything to brace against, one wrong move and he might have crushed the man beside him.

At last, he lay safely on Yin Hexuan’s side, panting softly as he caught his breath.

Yin Hexuan seemed to sense the warmth radiating from him. With uncanny precision, he wrapped an arm around Jing Chi’s waist and nuzzled his cheek into the crook of Jing Chi’s neck.

Only then did Jing Chi make out the man’s murmured words:

“No… don’t lie to me…”

The night was utterly still. In the room, the only sounds were their mingled breaths and that faint, drowsy whisper.

Jing Chi let out a helpless sigh. He patted Yin Hexuan’s back in what was meant to be a soothing gesture, though it carried a hint of perfunctory reassurance.

“Mm, I won’t lie to you. Anyone who does is a dog.”

Finally, the murmuring stopped, and Yin Hexuan’s arm loosened. Jing Chi assumed he’d drifted off to sleep at last. But when he glanced down, he saw the man clutching his stomach tightly.

The flush of alcohol had drained from his cheeks, leaving them ghostly pale without a trace of color. A sheen of cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

Jing Chi: …

Perfect. Just perfect. A stomachache at the ideal moment.

His expression darkened.

At a loss for words, Jing Chi scrambled off the bed. He hurried to the living room for the stomach medicine, filled a glass with warm water, and returned.

Pinching a pill between his fingers, he pressed it past Yin Hexuan’s pale lips with zero gentleness.

Then he held the glass to the man’s mouth and said with strained patience, “Open up.”

Dazed as he was, Yin Hexuan either heard him or simply obeyed on instinct. His lips parted slightly, and Jing Chi tipped the water in.

With the medicine and warm water settling in his stomach, Yin Hexuan finally went still.

By now, the ordeal had left Jing Chi utterly drained, body and soul.