It was already past dawn when he returned to the Ling residence.
Shi Jiufeng filled the tub with hot water for a bath. Submerged in the water, his stiff limbs gradually regained their warmth, and his numb fingertips found their sensation once more.
This warmth stirred a sense of listlessness within him, tempting him to let his body slowly sink lower until he was entirely immersed.
In the bustling capital of elite high society, the Shi family managed to reach its current standing largely due to his mother, Bai Miaoxi.
Bai Miaoxi did not venture into business until Shi Jiufeng was ten years old, yet in less than a decade, she grew the company to its present scale. At least in the eyes of the older generation within the circle, she was a genuine titan of industry.
During Shi Jiufeng’s senior year of high school, Bai Miaoxi suffered a sudden cardiogenic death. Before the ambulance could even arrive, she had already passed away, leaving behind a cowardly and incompetent husband, an eldest son on the verge of taking the college entrance examinations, and a younger son still in swaddling clothes.
Shi Jiufeng’s father, Shi Yinghan, was a painter.
Thrust into the role of running the company with zero preparation, he struggled immensely just to maintain daily operations. Even though Shi Jiufeng was already studying finance, it was a case of distant water failing to put out a nearby fire.
As the company’s revenue worsened day by day, Shi Jiufeng had no choice but to get involved in company affairs prematurely. To his dismay, he discovered that Shi Yinghan had been swindled into investing the company’s entire cash flow into a hollow shell project.
Just as Shi Jiufeng desperately fought to save the company and finally plugged the financial gap, his younger brother, Shi Jiuyong, fell gravely ill.
Group 3 Medulloblastoma with MYC amplification, a rare, malignant tumor frequently occurring in young children.
Shi Jiuyong’s condition deteriorated rapidly. While Shi Yinghan could only weep helplessly with no idea what to do, Shi Jiufeng took charge, selling the family home to pay for his brother’s medical treatment.
Millions were barely enough to cover the costs.
Just as Shi Jiufeng breathed a sigh of relief and prepared for his final exams, Shi Jiuyong’s illness relapsed.
The bewildered child was admitted to the hospital once again, and the exorbitant medical expenses drove the already battered Shi family to a complete dead end.
It was precisely at this moment that Shen Biyun descended like a deity.
Shen Biyun’s maternal family operated a private hospital of modest size, which housed a doctor specializing in this specific disease, a renowned expert of high standing in the industry.
When Shi Jiuyong underwent surgery, Shi Jiufeng had once considered approaching this very hospital to secure that doctor. However, the expert had no available time whatsoever, leaving him with no choice but to settle for a lesser option at their original hospital.
At that time, Shen Biyun stated: As long as you agree to marry my son, I can save your brother’s disease and your family’s reputation.
Aside from marriage, Shen Biyun’s second demand was for Shi Jiufeng to abandon his career and studies, dedicating himself entirely to becoming a wealthy elite housewife at home.
Had Bai Miaoxi still been alive, Shi Jiufeng would certainly never have agreed.
He had long held aspirations in his heart; he wanted to write and become a screenwriter. Even if he could not achieve legendary status in cinema history, he at least wanted a portfolio of respectable works to his name.
Bai Miaoxi had been very supportive of him, but he no longer had a mother.
Apart from giving his consent, Shi Jiufeng had no alternative choice.
Rescuing the company once had already cost him half his life; could he possibly rescue it a second time? He dared not gamble with his brother’s life and the future of the entire family.
Shen Biyun had not spoken falsely.
Following a relapse of Group 3 MYC-amplified medulloblastoma, the life expectancy for most children is less than a year. Yet, relying on that doctor along with imported instruments and pharmaceuticals from abroad, Shi Jiuyong remained alive to this day.
Even though he lay on a hospital bed, unable to utter a single word, he was still capable of smiling, and that made all of this worthwhile.
The Shi family’s company had been performing quite decently in its operations lately.
Since everything was merely a transaction, and since he had already reaped what he desired from it, he ought not to feel sorrowful.
Shi Jiufeng continually told himself not to feel pained, not to grieve.
You were the one who chose to agree to marry Ling Xiao; all of this is of your own making.
The oxygen in his lungs was depleted, a dull ache radiated across his chest, and even the rhythmic beating of his heart sounded exceptionally distinct.
Countless memories that should have been forgotten but were instead deeply etched flashed across Shi Jiufeng’s mind like a revolving lantern. Scene after scene, frame after frame, reminded him of what a terrifying choice he had made.
At the exact moment the critical threshold approached, Shi Jiufeng violently broke the water’s surface. Droplets rolled down his refined cheeks, and his bloodshot eyes looked as though they were weeping tears of blood. Casually wiping away the moisture from his face, his violently heaving chest abruptly settled down without warning.
Gripping the edge of the bathtub, Shi Jiufeng stood up, dried his body casually, and slipped beneath the covers.
He unlocked his phone and opened a direct message he had received earlier.
Shi Jiufeng’s account had only been updated up until the day before Bai Miaoxi’s passing. Though he had remained logged in ever since, he had never published another post.
The person who sent him the direct message was a follower who had tracked his account for over three thousand days, bearing the ID: Chron.
Shi Jiufeng was not surprised that someone had followed him for so long.
In the past, he used to publish short articles on his account covering every genre he wished to experiment with at the time. Because of his distinctive style, he quickly accumulated tens of thousands of followers.
In the early stages of his hiatus, quite a few people left comments underneath his account. But as time wore on, the only person left interacting with this profile was Chron.
No, to be precise, from beginning to end, the only one who persistently sent him messages was Chron.
Every New Year’s Eve at precisely 23:59, Shi Jiufeng would punctually receive a single message from the other party reading: [Happy New Year].
Shi Jiufeng had once wondered who this person might be, but the user’s avatar was completely blank, no posts were published on the account, and the location displayed as unknown.
Perhaps it was simply a loyal follower captivated by his writing.
Yet, it had been far too long since he last wrote. He had reached a point where opening a document and sitting in front of it in dead silence for hours failed to yield even a single word.
Out of a sense of guilt toward his followers, Shi Jiufeng did not dare to reply.
Shi Jiufeng flipped through the history logs; this was the first time Chron had ever sent him content other than Happy New Year.
Was the person going to see someone?
If they were worried the other party might not recognize them…
Could it be a friend they hadn’t contacted in a long time?
If their past bond was deep, why hadn’t they been in touch for such a long time?
Had their relationship fractured?
However, judging by Chron’s earnestness and persistence, even if the relationship had broken down, they would surely find a way to repair it, right?
Shi Jiufeng turned off his phone, curled up on his side into a tight ball, and silently coaxed himself to sleep.
He had to sleep.
Having met Ling Xiao tonight, Shen Biyun would undoubtedly interrogate him come morning.
Dealing with Shen Biyun every single time demanded a tremendous amount of energy from Shi Jiufeng. If he skipped sleep tonight as well, he could forget about getting a decent rest for the entire week ahead.
The next day, precisely at eight o’clock in the morning.
Shi Jiufeng sat punctually at the dining table. After the servants laid out breakfast course by course, Shen Biyun, attired in an elegant qipao, made a leisurely entrance.
Not yet fifty years old, Shen Biyun was exceptionally well-preserved. Aside from the inevitable fine lines around her neck, her face remained entirely devoid of wrinkles. She favored fashion styles from the previous century, perpetually appearing in qipaos with her glossy hair pinned neatly in a bun secured only by a jade hairpin.
Noticing Shen Biyun’s arrival, Shi Jiufeng rose to his feet and bowed his head slightly. Good morning, Mother.
Shen Biyun did not even glance his way, walking straight to the head of the table to check the news on her tablet.
Until she gave permission, Shi Jiufeng was not permitted to sit.
Sipping her black tea and finishing the full edition of the news, Shen Biyun set the tablet down. Noticing that Shi Jiufeng was still standing, she put on an expression of surprise and remarked, Oh my, why are you still standing? Sit.
Shi Jiufeng took his seat with an expressionless face.
A servant quickly stepped forward to ladle a bowl of porridge for him. Before the bowl could even be placed in front of Shi Jiufeng, Shen Biyun’s soft voice drifted over: I haven’t finished speaking yet; what’s the rush in ladling porridge for him?
The servant froze, cold sweat instantly beading on her forehead. Madam, I…
Shen Biyun let out a sudden chuckle. Look how frightened I made you. Put it down.
Yes, the servant acknowledged, placing the bowl of porridge before Shi Jiufeng.
Shen Biyun inquired further: Did I tell you to give it to him?
The servant was a young girl who had just graduated not long ago. Unable to bear watching any longer, Shi Jiufeng spoke up: Mother.
Shen Biyun turned her gaze toward Shi Jiufeng in mock astonishment. Oh, you can speak?
Shi Jiufeng: …
Shen Biyun: You know how to speak, yet you don’t speak to your husband, choosing instead to address a lowly maid. What, are you no longer a homosexual?
Such remarks were genuinely harsh. Shi Jiufeng understood that Shen Biyun was venting her anger over the previous night’s events.
Shen Biyun had always hoped that Shi Jiufeng could manage to retain her son’s heart, inducing Ling Xiao to return home regularly, show up for work normally, and revitalize the increasingly declining Ling family.
Yet, Shi Jiufeng could not accomplish this.
Asking him to grovel and beg for affection like a dog would be no different than killing him outright.
He was homosexual, but he lacked all baseness.
Shen Biyun waved her hand dismissively, and the maid, on the verge of tears, hastily retreated to the side, lowering her gaze to stare at the tips of her shoes without daring to draw a heavy breath.
Shen Biyun continued: I won’t dwell on last night’s business. Ling Xiao behaved too excessively in his play, but do not disappoint me again tomorrow, understand?
Delivering contraceptives to a mistress was written off by Shen Biyun as merely excessive play.
Shi Jiufeng remained silent. The hands resting on his knees tightened involuntarily, his fingernails digging fiercely into his palms and leaving deep, blood-drawing marks.
Ignoring him, Shen Biyun pressed on of her own accord: Ling Xiao loves to play, but you aren’t an old-fashioned pedant either. Would accompanying him in his play actually cost you your life? Do not think that having read books for a couple of years grants you backbone. What the reality of the situation is, don’t you know clearly in your own heart?
Shi Jiufeng lowered his head even further.
Seeing him adopt this posture instantly stirred Shen Biyun’s temper. Having lost her appetite for breakfast, she rose from her table and instructed her chauffeur to drive her to the company.
Shi Jiufeng silently finished that bowl of porridge. His table manners were exceptionally graceful, and since he chewed each mouthful numerous times, his pace appeared measured and unhurried.
Unlike Shen Biyun, whose temperament shifted unpredictably between thunder and rain, the atmosphere within the villa was not oppressive when only Shi Jiufeng was present; it was merely dead quiet.
Many servants in the household enjoyed interacting with Shi Jiufeng because he never lost his temper arbitrarily, spoke very little, and never ordered anyone around with an attitude of perceived superiority.
Yet, none of them dared to speak to Shi Jiufeng.
This was a rule established by Shen Biyun.
At the time, Shen Biyun had stated: You possess a mouth, but if you do not use it to keep your husband’s heart, then you need not speak ever again in the future.
Shi Jiufeng naturally preferred quietude, so he had not found it strange at first.
As this silence persisted for longer and longer periods, however, Shi Jiufeng, as a normal human being, inevitably began to feel a sense of discomfort.
At times, watching the servants pass by him, Shi Jiufeng would experience the sensation that despite being within arm’s reach, they were separated by an unbridgeable dimension.
Fortunately, he still had friends.
When Shi Jiufeng felt lonely, he would talk to Yan Weitong.
Yan Weitong was a vibrant young man, a year younger than Shi Jiufeng, who had been training as an idol trainee since high school. Unfortunately, due to various reasons, he had yet to make his debut.
Word had it that a talent survival show was scheduled to begin recording by the end of the year, so Yan Weitong had traveled abroad for closed-door training where mobile phone usage was prohibited during the period.
Before departing, Yan Weitong told Shi Jiufeng that if there was anything he wanted to say while he was away, he could send all of it over, and he would reply the very moment he got a chance to check his phone.
For the first three days, Shi Jiufeng indeed spoke of certain things. But later on, staring at a chat window containing only his own messages, Shi Jiufeng suddenly found himself at a loss for words.
Yan Weitong was already enduring exhausting training every single day. Seeing that there were no good news updates from his side would surely make his mood even worse.
Shi Jiufeng did not wish for that.
Besides, his own affairs amounted to the very same routine back and forth; what difference would speaking of them make?
Ling Xiao had spoken a very true sentence: all of this was of his own making.
Calculating carefully, it had already been a full month since he last spoke to Yan Weitong.
He wondered how Yan Weitong was doing now, and whether everything was proceeding smoothly.
Jin Mansion
Jin Cixu stood inside his walk-in closet, repeatedly holding different suits against his body to compare them. Does the black set look better, or the blue one?
Yu Jibai yawned and remarked, Anything looks roughly the same, but your hairstyle is too hideous. Your white moonlight definitely won’t like it.
Hideous?
Jin Cixu frowned as he stared into the mirror at his slicked-back hair, feeling that Yu Jibai lacked taste.
My slicked-back hair looks very handsome.
Yu Jibai said, Could you stop copying Ling Xiao just because he wears his hair slicked back? What’s the matter, do you want your white moonlight to play substitute literature?
Lying down and resting nearby, Wen Heyi let out a soft chuckle. I wouldn’t bet on it. Word is that his white moonlight is quite fond of that guy named Ling Xiao, deeply devoted with zero regrets.
As the oldest among the group, Zhou Jingzhi offered some counsel: Jin Cixu, you should really think carefully about this plan of yours. Try not to lose all your dignity.
Jin Cixu remained entirely unbothered. Who needs dignity when you’re chasing someone? Acting as his mistress is only temporary; a mistress without ambitions for the upper seat isn’t qualified to be called a mistress.
Yu Jibai, Wen Heyi, and Zhou Jingzhi: …
Aside from me, no one else is worthy of serving A-Feng. Jin Cixu ultimately decided on the black suit. Enough talking; the geoduck I ordered for A-Feng has arrived. I’m going to check on it.