In He Qian’s memory, the Zhou Xuying of the other world, though decisive and ruthless in his methods, was a man of faith. He wore Buddhist prayer beads year round. After sending his own biological brother to prison, he had even knelt in a temple for seven days of devout prayer, observing a vegetarian diet and chanting sutras.
It was clear that, at his core, he possessed an unshakable belief. Such faith was rooted in kindness. Unless absolutely necessary, that Zhou Xuying would not push things to such a cruel extreme.
However, the Zhou Xuying of this world was nothing like that. He was a violent, obsessive madman who believed in neither gods nor Buddhas. He was cruel, volatile, and lacked even a shred of benevolence.
6:30 AM.
Despite staying up late the night before, He Qian woke up before his alarm could sound. He sat up drenched in cold sweat, his face deathly pale and his expression twisted with distress.
He sat in the glow of the lamp for a long while before regaining his composure. Feeling sticky and unsettled, he took a shower before heading downstairs.
When he reached the ground floor, Zhou Xuying was already seated at the dining table. Clad in a perfectly tailored suit, his sharp profile and indifferent gaze radiated the detached pressure of a man in power.
Having just woken from a nightmare, He Qian found himself face to face with the terrifying architect of his misery. No one in his position could manage a pleasant expression. Besides, it had not been a dream. It was reality.
He Qian went to the kitchen to pour a glass of hot milk and took his breakfast upstairs, never granting Zhou Xuying a single extra glance. Zhou Xuying did not initiate conversation either. The eerie atmosphere and magnetic tension remained unbroken, as if everything from the previous night was as quiet and harmonious as a dream.
He Qian felt it could almost qualify as a good dream.
He packed his things for school. He had an application to submit today, and there would be lines to collect supplies for military training. Although He Qian was injured and exempt from the training itself, he still had to follow the official procedures.
As he got into the car, the driver glanced at the rearview mirror and suddenly leaned back.
“Mr. He, the Young Master asked me to give you a message.”
He Qian’s brow furrowed.
“The Young Master said he agrees to you becoming a tutor.”
“What?” He Qian’s pupils visibly trembled.
“The Young Master added that he will select the family for you to tutor,” the driver supplemented. “Mr. He, the Young Master has been working very hard lately, but he does care about you.”
He Qian’s lips parted and closed, but not a single word escaped.
Upon arriving at school, he handed his application to the class monitor. He happened to run into Chen Ran, who let out a playful shout and slung an arm around He Qian’s shoulder.
“Come on, let us go line up for the uniforms. I heard the other departments filled the gym yesterday at noon. The crowd is thin now, so if the fit is not right, we can still swap them.”
“Mhm.” He Qian pushed Chen Ran’s hand away.
Chen Ran tilted his head. “Have you eaten?”
“I have.”
“Oh. I heard from the monitor that you are not participating in the military training?”
“I injured my arm a few days ago.”
He Qian was clearly being dismissive. It was not just perfunctory behavior. He simply did not want to drag an innocent person into his mess. Zhou Xuying was a madman who forbade him from getting close to anyone else. The incident with the oranges had been Zhou Xuying’s warning to him.
A breeze blew past, lifting the hair on He Qian’s forehead and revealing a prominent bruise on his fair temple.
Chen Ran reached out. “How did your forehead get bruised?”
He Qian dodged instinctively. This defensive reflex, developed over a mere month and a half, had unconsciously seeped into his very bones.
Chen Ran was startled. His expression turned complex, and after much hesitation, he asked, “He Qian, did something happen to you?”
“No.” After his denial, He Qian quickened his pace.
The intimate, lingering bite marks on the back of his neck were suddenly exposed to Chen Ran. Chen Ran stared at He Qian’s nape, looking at the bruised indentations of teeth. He followed with a forced smile. “A girl from the class next door was asking me for your contact info the other day. By the way, do you have a girlfriend?”
“No,” He Qian denied.
He did not have a girlfriend, but he had a male “lover,” the kind that could go insane at any moment. He added, “Please turn her down for me. Thanks.”
“Oh, okay.”
Chen Ran’s eyes were filled with a subtle, knowing smile as he watched He Qian.
After a mobilization meeting at noon and a brief self-introduction session with the instructors and the student union during evening self-study, the day concluded. As He Qian walked to the gate, the driver called to say he would be two minutes late due to traffic. He Qian glanced at a nearby pharmacy.
When the black Rolls Royce arrived, He Qian opened the door and climbed in. Zhou Xuying was sitting in the back seat with a laptop on his lap, his left hand supporting it while his right scrolled through the screen.
He Qian sat quietly to the side. The second the car door automatically closed, a cold, sinister voice came from beside him.
“He touched you?”
He Qian knew exactly who “he” referred to. “I pushed him away.”
Zhou Xuying let out a cold laugh, a flash of icy disdain in his eyes. He lowered the window and leaned against it to smoke. The white smoke was blown back into the car, making He Qian’s eyes turn red from the sting.
The car did not move. He Qian listened to the ticking of Zhou Xuying’s watch. His heart hammered harder with every second, and the urgency of the moment felt suffocating.
He Qian knew Zhou Xuying was angry.
Zhou Xuying extinguished his cigarette and looked into the rearview mirror. He took a lemon-flavored candy from the inner frame of the car door and gripped it in his palm.
“To the hotel,” Zhou Xuying commanded.
“Understood,” the driver replied.
He Qian’s heart sank. The gloomy, deep night stirred the memories of fear buried in his mind.
One month ago.
After He Qian had accepted his fate and stopped resisting, he had sat on the sofa in a state of dejection. Resistance only enraged Zhou Xuying, so He Qian tried to be submissive while looking for a chance to flee the Zhou residence and escape Zhou Xuying.
During lunch, Zhou Xuying had served him food and suggested eating out. He Qian said he wanted to go to the Nanming Restaurant, located in the busiest shopping mall in Beijing. Zhou Xuying took him there that very night. After half a month, He Qian finally left the Zhou residence, his cage.
An eaglet with broken wings had regrown its feathers, destined to soar beneath the blue sky. He Qian wanted to run.
He collided with a waiter’s tray. The hot food pressed against his thin clothes, scalding his skin red. Frowning, he asked for the direction of the restroom. The waiter pointed the way, and He Qian hurried off.
As he brushed past Zhou Xuying, the man looked calm and indifferent. His deep eyes were slightly raised as he composedly sipped his water, maintaining his usual steady demeanor. He Qian did not sense anything wrong.
But looking back now, He Qian realized it was full of holes. How could Zhou Xuying possibly let him leave his sight alone? Zhou Xuying had done it on purpose. He Qian recalled countless times how, as he walked past, Zhou Xuying’s gaze had likely followed his shoulder. Those cold eyes would have been filled with nothing but indifference, contempt, and disdain.
He Qian had fled the mall as fast as he could. While he felt a sense of smugness at his escape, he did not dare slow his pace.
Inside the restaurant, Zhou Xuying calmly enjoyed his dinner with unhurried grace. He let his phone ring for nearly a minute before answering.
“President Zhou, Mr. He ran! He got into a taxi. Should we follow and intercept?”
The metallic cutlery reflected Zhou Xuying’s sharp, handsome profile. He looked out the window. Under the night sky, the moon’s shadow swayed. The hope of dawn was shrouded by the night, leaving a long stretch of grey that felt dead and desolate.
In the long night, a single glimmer of light remained. He Qian chased it desperately.
In the unseen darkness, Zhou Xuying’s pupils were deep as he cruelly extinguished that light.
“No rush. Let him run for a while.”
People always cling to hope. Only when that hope is obliterated do they realize how long the night truly is. Hope is the most lethal thing in the world.
Zhou Xuying knew this better than anyone, for he had once experienced true despair. He Qian had experienced it too, but the nineteen-year-old He Qian did not know that yet.