Chu Ci did not notice that Han Yue had once taken his medication out of the house. He stayed at home for two days, the fever subsided, and then he resumed going to work as usual. He still drove that second-hand white Honda, wore a light shirt with a white lab coat, looked neat and mild-mannered, showing no trace of having any powerful backing.
But after the incident at the gathering, word had spread throughout his workplace. Everyone now believed that the usually low-profile, composed, unhurried Engineer Chu—who seemed indifferent to fame and status and only focused on academic work—actually had a formidable background, so strong that even the department’s top leadership could not handle it.
Look at what happened: Xu Zhongyi, drunk and pretending otherwise, struck him once, and ended up not only having two teeth knocked out in public, but also being forced by his superiors to personally apologize to Engineer Chu while carrying gifts. Before this incident, Xu Zhongyi—by virtue of being related to a leader—had been highly sought after and influential in the unit.
People whispered among themselves, and their attitude toward Chu Ci naturally changed. Even greetings in the morning carried more warmth than before.
Chu Ci seemed unaware of all this, or perhaps he simply did not care. He greeted colleagues as usual, properly and politely, clocked in, collected materials, and walked straight into his office without looking back.
Behind his back, colleagues remarked: “Now that’s someone with real backing. Look at that demeanor. Xu’s guy is just a distant relative of a leader and acts like he owns the world.”
Of course, Chu Ci’s elevated status in the unit was the result of Han Yue’s quiet instructions. After discovering Chu Ci was taking antidepressants, Han Yue began paying attention to his mental state from time to time and realized that Chu Ci actually seemed to enjoy going to work. In the lab, he appeared calm and steady, unlike his withdrawn and indifferent demeanor at home.
This made Han Yue jealous.
He wanted the entire world to know Chu Ci belonged to him, yet he could not say it outright. He could only vaguely refer to Chu Ci as a close friend—his closest, most important friend. As for how “close,” that was left for the research institute’s leadership to interpret.
That morning, while adjusting his tie, Han Yue walked out of the bedroom and saw Chu Ci sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee, staring at his laptop in a daze. Morning light came through the half-open window, wind brushing his hair. His face looked almost translucent, eyes dark like deep water, lips pale and thin—so much so that one would want to touch them.
“What are you spacing out about?” Han Yue asked.
Chu Ci immediately snapped back to attention and closed the laptop. “Nothing.”
Han Yue strode over and grabbed his hand before he could close it fully. He hated when Chu Ci concealed things from him.
On the screen was a forum post discussing the aftermath of a case involving the rich second-generation heir Hou Hongchang who had hit and killed a migrant worker child. There were photos of the grieving parents and images of Hou Hongchang partying at night with a female companion. The contrast was stark and jarring.
Han Yue skimmed it and chuckled. “Although it’s sensationalized, the basic facts are true. Hou Hongchang doesn’t intend to pay compensation. The people handling the case are his parents’ old subordinates—they’re preparing evidence to claim the child ran a red light.”
Chu Ci closed his eyes. “There were many witnesses, weren’t there? With such clear facts, can the Hou family still distort the truth?”
“What witnesses?” Han Yue said casually. “Media can be silenced, newspapers can’t report it, online discussion gets restricted. Witnesses won’t make it to the Supreme Court gate. Hou Hongchang is their only son. In their eyes he’s precious—he just had good luck being born into the right family.”
“…So they won’t even have to pay compensation?”
“At most a few hundred thousand if things get big. Hou Hongchang doesn’t even want to pay that. If it weren’t for restraint from higher-ups, he might’ve gone to the victims’ home and caused more trouble.”
Chu Ci said nothing. His expression carried faint disgust, anger, and exhaustion.
Later, Han Yue received a phone call from his family landline.
“Han Yue, it’s me,” his father’s voice said. “Your mother says you haven’t come home lately.”
“I’m living outside.”
“You’ve been back in Beijing for half a month and haven’t come home once. Come back for dinner.”
Then, after a pause: “I heard you’re living with someone outside. A man?”
“…Yes,” Han Yue replied. “He’s not very cooperative yet. I’ll bring him home when he is.”
At that moment, Chu Ci left for work without saying goodbye.
“Engineer, and not someone from that crowd,” Han Yue added. “Don’t worry. He’s just a bit stubborn.”
His father scolded him briefly and told him to come home.
After hanging up, Chu Ci called.
“Tonight I’m not coming back. The old man called me home. I’ll be busy for the next couple of days.”
He ended the call.
Chu Ci was standing in the changing room, one hand taking his white lab coat with his name tag from the hanger, the other holding his phone. He gave a perfunctory “mm” in response.
“I’m not some teenager anymore. Do I really have to be dragged home every few days just to get lectured by the old man? What the hell.” Han Yue paused, his tone turning darker. “What are you ‘mm’-ing for? Think I don’t know you’re secretly happy about this? Let me tell you, don’t think I’m gone for two days and you can start acting up. If I call you and you don’t pick up, I’ll make sure you regret it when I come back.”
By the end, his voice had lost its harshness and carried a more possessive, almost intimate edge.
“I understand,” Chu Ci said flatly.
“What do you understand? Say a few more words and you’ll die?” Han Yue was still dissatisfied. “You think the moment I go home you’re free? Next time you come with me. You’ll have to face it sooner or later. Don’t think you can avoid it.”
Chu Ci’s fingers tightened around the phone. His nails turned faintly pale.
“What, nothing to say now?” Han Yue waited a moment, then continued smugly when he got no response. “The old man’s been in the military all his life. He originally wanted someone in the family to be a scholar. But the eldest turned out to be a troublemaker, and I went into the military. The other day when he heard you’re a researcher, he was actually quite pleased. Said that’s right—science and technology are the primary productive forces.”
“…I know,” Chu Ci interrupted him, restraining himself. “Time’s up, I need to go into the lab. That’s it.”
He ended the call without waiting for a response and threw the phone into his locker.
Han Yue was used to being hung up on by him. It wasn’t the first time. Even though he had a domineering temperament, the most he could control was whether Chu Ci stayed or left; he could not force him to smile or respond warmly. Words were on Chu Ci’s face, not his. Even if Han Yue acted like a tyrant, he could not make someone speak or smile on command.
Cursing under his breath, Han Yue stepped on the brake and stopped at the entrance of the Han residence.
The “damn it” he muttered had only a small part to do with Chu Ci hanging up. The real reason was that he had to go home for dinner.
His relationship with his family could not be called completely distant, but it was shallow. As a child, he had rarely lived with his parents. His clearest memory of his father was his stern face and booming lectures. His mother, in his memory, was more concerned with appearance and indifferent to family life.
Han Yue’s childhood circumstances differed greatly from his elder brother Han Qiang. When Han Qiang was born, his father had not yet been promoted and had more time at home. The family, while strict, at least lived together. His mother was more attached to the eldest son, as firstborn children often receive more emotional investment.
But when Han Yue was born, the situation was completely different. He was only one year younger than his brother, meaning his mother became pregnant again just two months after giving birth to the first child. After Han Qiang’s birth, she had suffered severe postpartum hemorrhage and had not yet recovered when the second pregnancy came too soon.
Her first reaction upon learning she was pregnant again was to abort it. She had been a performer in a cultural troupe, once a celebrated beauty, proud and particular about her body and appearance.
But in a family like theirs, abortion was not simple. She fought for months without success, and eventually had no choice but to give birth.
Unexpectedly, Han Yue was born smoothly and healthily, crying loudly at birth, with features resembling his father. Before the family could even celebrate, his father received an unexpected promotion and transfer order to another province.
As a seasoned political figure, Han Yue’s father immediately understood this was a step in his career trajectory. After a few years, he would likely return to Beijing with further promotion.
Thus, Han Yue’s birth was like a military campaign—difficult in the beginning, harsh in the middle, and ultimately ending in a favorable outcome, with an additional promising future attached.
When the family relocated, they only took the elder son Han Qiang, who was easier to move. The newborn Han Yue remained in Beijing with caretakers and staff. Han Yue’s father spent eight years stationed in the province, returning to Beijing only twice, each time for less than half a month. By the time the family reunited years later, Han Yue and his parents were essentially strangers.
This created a stark difference between the two brothers. Han Qiang grew up dependent on his parents, especially his mother, and was well-mannered and academically disciplined. Han Yue, by contrast, grew up without parental care, relied entirely on himself, and became unruly, fighting in military compounds, performing poorly in school, and growing up rough and undisciplined.
Naturally, parental favoritism developed. The mother favored the well-behaved elder son and was stricter toward the younger one. Children are sensitive to such treatment: if you don’t like me, I don’t need to like you either. Even later when Han Yue’s father tried to treat both sons equally, the emotional distance had already formed.
At eighteen, Han Yue enlisted in the military. While other families saw emotional farewells, he left cheerfully, calling friends in advance to plan a welcome party.
Now nearly thirty, he had spent less than ten years living with his parents in total. Whatever familial bond existed in blood meant little in practice. Later, when Han Qiang was involved in a fatal traffic accident and tried to cover it up, the matter even reached one of Han Yue’s close legal contacts. Han Yue refused to intervene, which led to ongoing resentment from his mother, who had been cold toward him for the past two years.
So after returning to Beijing from Nujiang recently, Han Yue had gone straight to Chu Ci upon landing. Today was essentially his first time back home.
He slammed the jeep door shut, took a few quick steps up the stairs, and shouted loudly:
“I’m back!”