The cigarette was slim, but it left a stark mark against Xie Chun’s lips.
Xu Yanghe frowned. “It smells terrible.”
With the cigarette in his mouth, Xie Chun couldn’t even manage a rebuttal.
Xu Yanghe snatched the cigarette, crushed it out on the table, and commanded, “Don’t smoke again.”
“Oh,” Xie Chun replied, returning to his noodles.
That night followed the usual routine each retreating to their own room. However, an inexplicable irritability weighed on Xu Yanghe’s heart, making him toss and turn.
At 4:00 AM, Xu Yanghe got up to clean.
He aimlessly swept the living room and kitchen for a while, but he couldn’t deceive himself. He turned off the lights and walked to the dining room. The window was open, but the night air was still.
In the trash can sat that single half-smoked cigarette. The scent of tobacco had almost vanished.
Xu Yanghe stood there for a moment before crouching down and picking it up with two fingers. The faint smell wafted up again. He rolled the cigarette slightly; on the filter, he saw two distinct teeth marks.
They looked like they were from canines.
Xu Yanghe cursed under his breath. He covered his face with his hand and tossed the cigarette back into the bin.
I’m losing my mind.
…
The Burden of Success
Xu Yanghe barely slept. The next day, he had to head to class with dark circles under his eyes, accompanied by Xie Chun. Standing in the entryway, Xu Yanghe’s gaze was practically pinned to Xie Chun.
Xie Chun turned back. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Xu Yanghe said, continuing to stare.
How can someone so fair and clean have black lungs? “Don’t smoke anymore, you hear me?” Xu Yanghe nagged again.
“I know, I know.” Xie Chun stacked the cigarette boxes. “I’ll take them to sell.”
By noon, Xie Chun received a message from his counselor asking him to come to the office. He gave Xu Yanghe another one of those resentful glares.
“It’s fine,” Xu Yanghe draped an arm over Xie Chun’s shoulder. “I’ll go with you.”
The office was empty, so Xu Yanghe followed him right in. “Liu-dao,” Xie Chun greeted the counselor. Xu Yanghe grabbed a chair and sat down.
“And this is?” The counselor looked at Xu Yanghe.
Xu Yanghe smiled. “I’m Xie Chun’s friend. We’re going to grab lunch after this.”
The counselor nodded. “That’s good. Xie Chun was so isolated back in freshman year.”
Isolated? Xu Yanghe thought. Liu-dao probably hasn’t seen his chat history with Yao Xiaofeng.
Xie Chun sat across from her, looking very reserved.
“Don’t be nervous,” Liu-dao said. “This is just the routine annual one-on-one talk.”
Then, she spent ten minutes praising him. Xie Chun was the “ideal student” in a counselor’s eyes: top grades, proactive in finding mentors for competitions, and fiercely independent. He never caused problems that reached her desk—or rather, no problems ever escalated that far.
Listening to this, Xu Yanghe felt a tightness in his chest. Xie Chun wasn’t immune to friction with classmates; so many people loved to gossip, and he was blunt to a fault—take the Literature Retrieval class incident as an example. It was just that professors often let things slide because of his high GPA.
To others, this felt unfair, which only bred more jealousy. It made his journey at K-University a lonely one.
But Xie Chun’s brilliance was undeniable. Last semester, during the Maoism exam, Xie Chun turned in his paper early. Xu Yanghe had seen two proctors huddling over his exam sheet at the podium. At the time, Xu Yanghe had felt a bit of disdain. How good can it be? Later, when he saw Xie Chun’s notes, the handwriting was so aesthetically pleasing that even though he didn’t understand a word, he felt it was “excellent.”
“By the way, I heard you went to the Engineering School’s anti-fraud seminar,” Liu-dao pivoted.
Xie Chun was reluctant to admit it, but nodded. “Yes.”
“Perfect,” she said. “It’s our class’s turn for the school newspaper’s floating column next week. Why don’t you write something about it? Some anti-fraud cases, or the story you shared at the seminar.”
Xie Chun’s eyes were full of resistance. He turned to Xu Yanghe for help.
Liu-dao encouraged him, “Don’t be shy! The school paper is just a formality. I know you students don’t really read it—you mostly use it as a mat for your takeout.”
…
Life is Suffering
Xie Chun came out of the office looking wilted.
“I’ll write it for you, okay?” Xu Yanghe patted him. “Stop blaming me in your head.”
Xie Chun truly didn’t have time to write a column. He grew busier by the day, staying in Professor Lin Weihua’s meeting room until the early hours. By the time he finished his shift at Blue Sea and came home, his eyes were glazed with exhaustion.
“Why push yourself so hard?” Xu Yanghe ruffled his hair. “Can’t you let yourself relax a bit?”
Xu Yanghe had made pan-seared fish fillets with bone broth noodles. Xie Chun lowered his head and ate ravenously. “Life is suffering.”
Xu Yanghe froze. What is he talking about?
Damn you, Lin Weihua. How much have you exploited this idiot?
“Everyone’s life is painful. If you can live, you live. If not, whatever,” Xie Chun repeated.
Xu Yanghe blinked, speechless.
Xie Chun leaned in, looking at him seriously. “Everyone is in pain.” He seemed to treat this as a universal law.
Xu Yanghe tried to counter, “I feel okay…”
Xie Chun frowned, staring at him with a confused expression.
Xu Yanghe explained, “I’m a second-generation rich kid. I’ve never had financial pressure. When my dad’s gone, my brother will give me my share… The only pain was my mom, I guess, but that was years ago. I don’t feel much now.”
Xie Chun narrowed his eyes in deep thought for a moment. “No, you have pain.” His gaze dropped toward Xu Yanghe’s crotch.
Xu Yanghe: “……”
“I don’t have that kind of… trouble.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Fine.” Though Xie Chun’s face was still full of doubt.
Xu Yanghe forcibly steered the conversation back. “My point is, since the competition is so busy, why don’t you stop going to the Blue Sea?”
“I can’t,” Xie Chun said.
Xu Yanghe held the calendar in front of him. “What’s the date today?”
“March 20th.”
“Have those people come for you?”
Xie Chun shook his head.
Xu Yanghe leaned in closer. “From now on, those people won’t come asking you for money anymore.”
“But…” The sorrow in Xie Chun’s eyes didn’t dissipate.
The 20th, 21st, 22nd passed… As March drew to a close, the so-called loan shark debt collectors never appeared.
…
Sudden Death
On the last day of March, Xu Yanghe received a message from Qin Zicheng: [Sun Qi contacted me.]
Xu Yanghe’s expression froze. [How so fast?]
Sun Qi was the nephew of the former head of the Sun family and a contender for the Sun Group’s shares. According to the plan, “Bai You” (under Qin Zicheng’s management) would slowly absorb scattered shares of Sun-affiliated companies—core assets and failing ones alike. Once they held enough to be noticed, they would trade them for the company under Sun Bin’s name that held the development rights to Xiaoyou Mountain.
The plan relied on the fact that Sun Bin was an illegitimate son with no real power. They would snatch the mountain amidst the chaos, leaving the Sun family with no grounds to break the contract. Xu Yanghe had estimated this would take at least six months.
Now, in less than a month, Sun Qi has reached out first. Something was wrong.
Xu Yanghe rushed to his company office—a small room in the still-desolate You Mountain New District. Qin Zicheng lived upstairs and was already in the office, looking like he’d just come from a funeral.
“What happened?” Xu Yanghe walked in. “Did the Sun family catch on?”
Qin Zicheng shook his head, looking at him with surprise. “You… don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Sun Bin is dead,” Qin Zicheng said.
Four simple words. Xu Yanghe didn’t process them at first. He thought he had misheard.
Qin Zicheng repeated, enunciating every syllable: “Sun Bin. Is. Dead.”
Xu Yanghe’s first thought was: Did I hit him that hard? But for the past month, all news of Sun Bin involved him being hospitalized and diligently trying to frame Xu Yanghe for a “hit and run.” A man he saw a month ago was suddenly gone. Xu Yanghe, who hadn’t dealt with death in a long time, felt a chill of primal fear.
The news had broken in the early hours. There was an “accident” at an overseas club with casualties. At first, no names were mentioned, but reports eventually surfaced of a Chinese youth surnamed Sun. Then, all domestic reports vanished—the Sun family had clearly suppressed the news.
That was all the public knew. Xu Yanghe called a few friends to piece together the rest.
Sun Bin had been discharged about two weeks ago and immediately flew abroad to party with his foreign socialite friends. They played hard, especially with high-stakes gambling. Sun Bin’s involvement was partly to solidify international partnerships for the Sun Group. Somehow, the gambling turned deadly. The details weren’t for outsiders to know.
In short, Sun Bin was dead.
The various branches of the Sun family were scrambling to stabilize stock prices. Sun Qi was the first to notice what “Bai You” was doing.
“The money you put in is mostly gone,” Qin Zicheng said. “But Sun Qi proposed a direct swap for the company under Sun Bin’s name and all its assets. The rest of the family will likely give their terms by the end of the day. Either way, your goal is achieved.”
Xu Yanghe nodded absently and gave Qin Zicheng a few instructions. He didn’t want to get dragged into the family infighting, and he needed to ensure this swap wouldn’t become a stumbling block for his brother, Xu Jin, in the future.
As the sun began to set, Xu Yanghe drove back to his apartment near K-University.
Someone had died inexplicably last night. People die inexplicably every single second…
The parking garage was empty. Xu Yanghe pulled into his usual spot, but before he could straighten the car, he heard a strange noise from the rear tire.
He frowned, annoyed, and turned off the engine. Before he could even see what was wrong with the tire, he heard an earth-shattering—
BOOM!!!