Chapter 68: Reunion
Tang Yu’an, frowning at Xie Cun’s bleeding hand, asked, “Doesn’t that hurt?”
Xie Cun blurted out, “If you hold my hand, it won’t hurt.”
A flicker of the old Xie Cun surfaced.
He wanted to ask what had happened, but Xie Cun simply replaced the mask on his face.
“It’s not safe here. I’ll send you to Pang Jin. He’ll explain everything.”
Even without his explanation, Tang Yu’an had already guessed.
To defeat an enemy from within, someone had to play the spy.
He just hadn’t expected it to be Xie Cun. Based on personality and experience, Wei Langxing seemed more suitable.
But Xie Cun had done it, transforming himself within three short years, capable and independent now.
Tang Yu’an had to leave as soon as possible. Xie Cun quickly arranged for a trusted subordinate to escort him.
But before he left, Xie Cun held his sleeve, finally asking: “Where have you been these past three years?”
Why… didn’t you come back?
Tang Yu’an offered a plausible excuse, saying he had been rescued after being thrown into the river, but his memory had been unstable, only recently recovering.
His explanation was full of holes. The video of him being strangled couldn’t be faked. Xie Cun had seen it countless times; he knew what a broken neck looked like. He knew Tang Yu’an couldn’t have survived.
But here he was, a miracle.
He wouldn’t question it, grateful for this unexpected gift.
Xie Cun had initially agreed to be undercover partly because of his uncle, but mostly because of Tang Yu’an.
He had sworn to destroy the organization, no matter the cost.
He wanted… to avenge him.
So, confirming Tang Yu’an’s return, he wanted to abandon everything and leave with him.
Nothing else mattered.
But the plan was nearing its end. If he exposed himself now, the Bureau would lose their chance to take down the Shadow organization.
He couldn’t jeopardize the mission, or betray his comrades.
So, despite his reluctance, he stayed.
But he used his private line to contact Tang Yu’an before he reached the Bureau, constantly checking his location, afraid of losing him again.
He talked incessantly, mostly trivial things, like how he had kept all the teddy bears, hadn’t thrown any away.
Tang Yu’an would occasionally respond, letting him know he was listening.
Just like before.
As Tang Yu’an neared the Bureau, Xie Cun reluctantly ended the call, afraid of being detected.
The silence was deafening.
Only the wound on his hand reminded him it wasn’t a dream.
————
Compared to Xie Cun, Pang Jin hadn’t changed much.
Perhaps he was just… naturally old-looking, Tang Yu’an thought apologetically.
Pang Jin hugged him tightly, then said: “When Xie Cun told me, I thought he was dreaming.”
He looked at Tang Yu’an: “You haven’t changed at all.”
True, time hadn’t touched him.
Tang Yu’an: “But Xie Cun seems different… What about Wei Langxing? Zuo Tinghan? How are they?”
Pang Jin had him sit down, pouring him a cup of coffee: “A lot has happened in these three years.”
He explained that Xie Cun, to infiltrate the enemy, had staged a performance with the Bureau.
He had publicly dismissed him for insubordination, and Xie Cun had pretended to join his uncle, who had connections with the Shadow organization, gradually gaining their trust while secretly relaying information to him and Wei Langxing.
The Shadow organization wasn’t easily fooled; they put Xie Cun through rigorous tests.
Finally, he earned their trust with a scar and a near-death experience.
Pang Jin also said they had laid a trap, waiting for the enemy to walk into it.
If all went well, the Shadow organization would be eradicated.
He noticed Pang Jin hadn’t mentioned Zuo Tinghan.
He asked about him, and Pang Jin’s expression told him something was wrong.
“Zuo Tinghan… isn’t well,” Pang Jin said.
Tang Yu’an was shocked: “What happened?”
Pang Jin explained that after learning of his death, Zuo Tinghan had become obsessed with destroying the Shadow organization.
This was understandable, but his methods were extreme.
To obtain information, he would kill anyone who stood in his way, even sacrificing his own teammates without hesitation.
The Bureau initially warned him, then tried to restrain him, finally placing him on the dangerous persons list.
He was now a rogue agent, ignoring the Bureau’s warnings.
Their attitude towards him was ambiguous, wary of his instability, yet unwilling to lose the valuable intel he provided.
Many within the Bureau wanted him arrested and institutionalized.
Tang Yu’an fell silent.
He felt Pang Jin was describing a stranger, not the Zuo Tinghan he knew.
How could this happen? He was… a protagonist.
Seeing his distress, Pang Jin changed the subject: “Let’s put that aside for now. I’ll take you to see Wei Langxing.”
He hadn’t informed Wei Langxing yet, partly because he wasn’t sure if Xie Cun’s news was real, partly because he was afraid Wei Langxing would rush off to find him.
He hadn’t believed Tang Yu’an could be alive, the video seemed undeniable.
But seeing him back at the Bureau, his hair even the same length, as if he had never left, he wasn’t surprised either.
Pang Jin was an atheist, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that an unseen force was manipulating the world.
However Tang Yu’an returned, he just wanted him to stay.
He found Wei Langxing in a meeting room, discussing something with another officer.
Deciding to give them some space, he left.
Tang Yu’an could see Wei Langxing’s profile through the door, but he hesitated, a sudden surge of anxiety.
What if… the memory erasure was selective?
Xie Cun and Pang Jin remembered him, but Wei Langxing might not.
He stood frozen at the doorway.
Wei Langxing’s gaze swept over him, and his heart clenched.
Then, the gaze moved on, without a flicker of recognition.
Tang Yu’an felt like he had been punched in the gut.
Wei Langxing… didn’t remember him.
He felt a pang of shame, turning to leave before he lost his composure.
But the officer sitting opposite Wei Langxing noticed him: “Can I help you?”
These words seemed to jolt Wei Langxing, who slowly turned, like a rusty machine.
He looked at Tang Yu’an, then at the officer, asking hesitantly: “You… can see him too?”
The officer looked puzzled: “Of course I can see him. He’s right there. Is he a friend of yours?”
Tang Yu’an stopped, their eyes meeting across the room.
The following scene seemed to play in slow motion. He saw Wei Langxing knock over the files on the table, almost trip over his chair.
The officer quickly helped him up: “Whoa, are you alright? Low blood sugar?”
Wei Langxing pushed his hand away, walking towards him, each step an effort, as if wading through quicksand.
Tang Yu’an felt he needed to explain, so he repeated his amnesia story.
Wei Langxing nodded along, making him feel slightly embarrassed.
He forced a smile: “So, I’m officially back!”
He waited, but there was no response.
He initially thought Wei Langxing was angry, but then, seeing his lips move, his expression anxious, yet no sound coming out, he wondered if he had lost his voice.
But he had been fine just now.
Then it hit him – Wei Langxing must have feelings for him.
He wasn’t oblivious, he had simply avoided it, knowing he would be leaving, that Wei Langxing would forget him.
But now, with all those concerns gone, he followed his instincts, hugging him: “It’s over, I’m back…”
The officer, sensing the moment, discreetly left. Tang Yu’an was grateful; protagonists valued their pride.
He felt a coldness against his shoulder, realizing Wei Langxing was crying, silent tears.
He felt his own eyes welling up, but he forced himself to be strong, holding back the tears.
Wei Langxing held him tightly, a long, lingering embrace.
Finally, his legs aching, he gently pushed him away, having him sit down.
After a long pause, Wei Langxing’s voice returned, hoarse and shaky.
His first words were: “Don’t leave.”
Tang Yu’an: “I won’t.”
Wei Langxing suddenly changed the subject: “I bought a house.”
Tang Yu’an, confused by the abrupt change in topic, simply replied: “That’s good.”
“Our department… there’s no one left, the building was handed back to the Bureau, so I was thinking… would you like to live with me? It’s close, very convenient.”
It sounded reasonable enough. Tang Yu’an, without thinking, agreed to what was essentially a cohabitation proposal.
Wei Langxing’s heart pounded, a surge of joy coursing through him.
He didn’t tell Tang Yu’an that everything in that house had been chosen according to his preferences.
For three years, he had cooked two meals, made two beds, pretending he wasn’t alone.
