Directly above the sink, a large square mirror occupied the entire wall, its foggy surface reflecting Ming Rao’s stiff, trembling back. His fingers were gripping the edge of the countertop so hard that he wished he could crush the quartz to dust.
Yan Yuchuan approached him slowly, and with each step forward, Ming Rao’s shoulders grew more rigid.
Ming Rao had always known that the hatred he had accumulated toward Yan Yuchuan over the years would one day erupt. He had imagined many scenarios for it, but never this one in a steam-filled bathroom, with Yan Yuchuan’s shoulder still wrapped in a triangular sling.
Even if he took the chance to punch him now, it would be an unfair victory.
“You can tell me,” Yan Yuchuan ventured cautiously. “Everything I’ve forgotten you can tell me one piece at a time.”
Ming Rao suddenly looked up, laughing coldly in disbelief. “You think that’s the same?”
For a long time after learning that Yan Yuchuan had erased his memories, Ming Rao felt no resentment toward him only deep self-blame. He constantly reflected on what he had done wrong, what he had failed to do, that would have driven Yan Yuchuan to make such a decision.
If he had smiled at him a little more during their last meeting, if he hadn’t blocked him and ignored his calls, if he hadn’t forced him to quit smoking would things have been different?
Would Yan Yuchuan have thought of his good qualities in the last second before the surgery?
When his mental state was at its worst, Ming Rao had gone to see a psychologist, but he never opened up, and traditional therapy had little effect on him.
The hospital recommended a cutting-edge new treatment a surgery that could erase a patient’s traumatic memories. It had recently taken the industry by storm, developed by a new startup called, what was it? Oh right, SinaTech!
Ming Rao didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, marveling at the irony of fate, but he accepted the hospital’s recommendation without hesitation.
The doctor told him that up until the very last moment before surgery, he could choose to cancel. But once it was done, there was no going back.
Ten minutes before receiving anesthesia, Ming Rao lay on the operating table. Somehow, the painful memories that had tormented him for months seemed to vanish entirely, and all he could remember were the joys Yan Yuchuan had brought him. In the end, he called off the surgery.
“If you’re asking me why I forgot you, I admit I can’t answer that,” Yan Yuchuan said, knowing full well that any defense would be hollow. “But what I can confirm is that I regret it.”
Ming Rao gave a bitter smile, his eyes filled with sorrow. “So what if you regret it? You know, when I look at you now, I don’t even feel like it’s you.”
It was as if, in that moment on the operating table, all the tangled emotions had been severed at the root, splitting cleanly into two strands one being his gentlest love, the other his most desperate hatred.
And so he had found his healing he simply treated Yan Yuchuan as dead, dead from the moment his memories were erased. He used all his gentlest love to mourn the Yan Yuchuan of the past. As for the polished, adored CEO that came after he had only hatred left for him.
“Erasing memories doesn’t change a person’s fundamental way of thinking or their logic of behavior,” Yan Yuchuan said, his speech unconsciously quickening. “If the current me regrets it, then the old me would have regretted it too. Can you believe that?”
“No,” Ming Rao shook his head firmly. “I’m leaving. Take care of yourself.”
The night had grown quiet, leaving only the hum of the exhaust fan as it carried away the lingering moisture on the frosted glass door, leaving the bathroom dry as before.
“Fine,” Yan Yuchuan spoke after a silent standoff. “Then before you go, could you help me close the curtains?”
Ming Rao shot him a puzzled glance. Yan Yuchuan nodded, silently gesturing at his arm in the sling.
Ming Rao pursed his lips in exasperation. “Where’s your room?”
Yan Yuchuan led him into the master bedroom. He sat upright on the bed, watching Ming Rao reach up to draw the curtains closed, then added another request: “If you don’t mind, could you pour me a glass of water too?”
“…”
With a clatter, a warm glass of water slammed onto the nightstand, splashing droplets everywhere.
As Ming Rao stepped one foot out of the bedroom, he was pulled back by some inexplicable force. Standing under the dim light, one hand in his pocket, he asked awkwardly, “Are you alone? Where’s your secretary?”
“He’s in Pingcheng. He didn’t come with me to Port Bay.”
Ming Rao rubbed his nose. “Then you should hire a caregiver.”
“Okay,” Yan Yuchuan said with an innocent look. “Where do I find one?”
“…” Ming Rao crossed his arms, his face turning pale with anger, his eyes wide open.
Yan Yuchuan said shamelessly, “I just moved here. I’m not familiar with Port Bay yet.”
“…”
Ming Rao strongly suspected Yan Yuchuan was playing dumb but couldn’t find proof. He paced furiously around the spacious house, only to find the refrigerator empty, the kitchen spice jars empty, and even the bathroom tissue holder without a roll.
Ten minutes later, he returned to Yan Yuchuan’s bedroom with a dark expression. “I’ll have my housekeeper come over tomorrow.”
“No need to go through all that trou”
Ming Rao planted his hands on his hips, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. Yan Yuchuan wisely stopped pushing further and instead asked, “Are you still leaving tonight?”
Ming Rao rolled his eyes. “And leave you here to die alone?”
Yan Yuchuan’s lips curved with a hint of a smile. “It won’t come to that.”
Ming Rao gritted his teeth. “Then I’ll just leave, shall I?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Yan Yuchuan said. “Sorry. Please stay don’t let me die here.”
Ming Rao let out a snort and was about to head to the next room when Yan Yuchuan’s voice came from behind him: “Ming Rao.”
He turned around, his gaze landing on Yan Yuchuan, who was sitting at the head of the bed, his body leaning slightly forward.
Sensing Ming Rao’s eyes on him, Yan Yuchuan lifted his gaze, held his look for a moment, then dropped his head again, quietly staring at the cast on his arm.
“I’ve made up my mind.”
Ming Rao blinked. “Made up your mind about what?”
Yan Yuchuan never raised his head, his lips pressing together almost imperceptibly, his voice hoarser than usual. “What you want.”
Ming Rao frowned in confusion, still not understanding what Yan Yuchuan meant. Then Yan Yuchuan looked up. “I’ll have my lawyer draft a new prenuptial agreement as soon as possible all on your terms.”
“…”
Ming Rao suddenly understood, freezing for a moment before snapping back to reality. “Oh.”
“I’ll have Chen Le send over the new agreement this week. I’m not sure when your parents will be free. If there are no objections, let’s sign it as soon as possible.”
Ming Rao hadn’t expected Yan Yuchuan to agree so readily it truly caught him off guard. “What’s the rush? Are you that eager to go out and fool around with someone else?”
“I won’t.” Yan Yuchuan’s face was blank and expressionless, hard to read, but the exhaustion in his voice was unmistakable.
The moment he’d fallen down the stairs yesterday, he’d made his decision amidst the searing pain.
He wasn’t without fantasies like the fortunate people of this world, he’d dreamed of a marriage that was exclusive, devoted, and wholeheartedly his alone.
But Lin Zhenxing’s visit had been like a resounding alarm, yanking him back to reality, reminding him where he came from, what kind of person he was, what he was allowed to have, and what he could never dare to wish for.
Ming Rao’s heart gave a sudden twist, and he raised his voice in bluster: “So what if you won’t? Don’t act all high and mighty! I’ll go find whoever I want, so don’t you dare meddle. If you’re not willing, say so now don’t go all pitiful later and make it seem like I’ve wronged you somehow.”
“There’s no unwillingness,” Yan Yuchuan said, his casted arm shifting slightly as he frowned and let out a sigh. “Do whatever you like. It’s all up to you. I won’t interfere.”
“…”
Then Yan Yuchuan spoke again: “But I do have one request. Is that alright?”
Ming Rao said, “Go ahead.”
“Come home this weekend,” Yan Yuchuan said, looking into his eyes. “I’ll cook for you.”
Yan Yuchuan only stayed home obediently for a single day before throwing himself back into work.
Over the years, Xina had established itself in Pingcheng primarily to advance the brain science industry in his hometown. Now that it had gained a firm foothold, it was time to expand into new business areas.
The Xinzhou Group meant trouble, and Xina was technically constrained by others they couldn’t put all their eggs in one basket. They needed not only new partners but also broad cross-industry collaborations to keep pace with the times.
On Friday, Chen Le came to Port Harbor, bringing Yan Yuchuan’s lawyer to finalize the prenuptial agreement with the Ming family’s legal team.
Chen Le’s entire extended family were natives of Pingcheng, and Yan Yuchuan hadn’t brought him along to Port Harbor, keeping him at the Pingcheng headquarters instead. That evening, Chen Le invited Yan Yuchuan to dinner. Ming Rao had initially wanted to bow out, but Chen Le insisted on including him, so he stopped making excuses.
Given that Yan Yuchuan was meeting Ming Rao’s parents the next day to sign the prenuptial agreement, heavy drinking wasn’t appropriate, so Chen Le substituted tea for wine. His gratitude was beyond words, and he nearly shed tears at the dinner table.
Midway through, Yan Yuchuan stepped away to take a phone call, and Ming Rao seized the opportunity to probe Chen Le about how Yan Yuchuan had gotten injured that day and whether such things happened often.
As expected, Chen Le was evasive, finally suggesting with visible reluctance that Ming Rao ask Yan Yuchuan himself.
If Yan Yuchuan would tell him the truth, would he need to beat around the bush like this? Still, Ming Rao didn’t want to put Chen Le in a difficult spot, so he only insisted on digging deeper into one question.
“Then can you tell me one thing? Lin Zhihao and Lin Zhimiao do they know what Lin Zhenxing did?”
“Well…” Chen Le’s expression immediately grew complicated. He hesitated for a long moment before finally letting out a sigh and looking Ming Rao in the eye. “Mr. Ming, it’s not that I’m unwilling to say, but President Yan has never explicitly discussed these matters with me either. I don’t feel right speculating.”
Ming Rao nodded understandingly. “It’s fine. I get it.”
“But,” Chen Le lowered his gaze, gathering his courage to speak, “to be honest, President Yan has shown me great kindness, and I genuinely hope he does well. To tell you the truth, from what I’ve observed, very few people treat him sincerely or perhaps I should say, no one does.”
Ming Rao’s throat felt clogged with something thick and heavy, and for a long moment, he couldn’t speak.
“President Yan himself seems to… I’m not sure how to put it. I think he’s incredibly ambitious at work, but in his personal life, it’s like he doesn’t want anything at all. It feels very disjointed. Over all these years, I’ve never seen him have any hobbies. He never takes time off, never travels, never gets close to anyone. During holidays, he’s always alone. I think he… lives a pretty hollow life.”
“…”
Ming Rao thought to himself: So Yan Yuchuan wanted to get married so badly because he was lonely?
But even if he wanted a companion, with his current circumstances, he could have any marriage he desired. Why would he indulge Ming Rao’s unreasonable requests and sign such a humiliating agreement?
The moment the words left his mouth, Chen Le realized he shouldn’t be commenting on his boss’s private life. A hint of shame crept onto his face, and he picked up his porcelain cup, offering Ming Rao a smile. “Mr. Ming, this toast is for you. Congratulations on your engagement to President Yan. Whatever happened in the past, being able to start fresh is a good thing. I wish you both a lifetime of walking hand in hand.”
Ming Rao forced a smile and raised his teacup, but found no trace of engagement joy in his heart. He wished he could grab his half-fake fiancé right now, yank him by the collar, and demand.
Is this the Lin family you said treated you with “profound kindness”?
This?
They just gave you money for school? What’s so great about that? How does that compare to me?
What I’m willing to give you is far more than just money.
But you don’t want any of it Anything I offer, you refuse.
The oolong tea left a fragrant, mellow aftertaste, yet as it went down, it burned like wildfire spreading across a plain, leaving behind nothing but endless desolation.
For reasons of discretion, the signing of the prenuptial agreement was held at the Ming family’s ancestral estate, with both parties’ legal teams present as witnesses.
The Ming family was a breath of fresh air in Platinum Harbor’s old-money circles one might even call them trendsetters of their time. The elderly couple loved lively gatherings and embraced modern technology enthusiastically, unwilling to live a primitive life in the mountains. However, on significant occasions like weddings and birthdays, the family would still gather at their ancestral home.
After the agreement was signed, the chef’s team prepared a full table of home-style dishes a wide variety, covering everything imaginable, yet retaining the warmth of home cooking. The braised pork glistened with oil, the stewed soup was rich and savory, the pork hock was tender and well-seasoned, and several plates of seasonal vegetables adorned the table, fresh and refreshing.
After the family meal, everyone gathered in the courtyard in front of the house, set up the family’s antique camera, and solemnly took a family portrait.
The courtyard was lined with verdant bamboo groves, with pines and cypresses spreading like canopies. On the dappled, shadow-strewn wooden steps, Ming Yiqing and Song Wan sat in the front on rosewood armchairs, while Ming Feng’s family stood behind them, with Ming Rao and Yan Yuchuan nestled in the center.
While the photographer was preparing, Song Wan turned her head.
Ming Rao met Song Wan’s gaze, but in an instant, she shifted her eyes to the person beside him. “Yuchuan, do you remember when A-Rao had a birthday one year, and we all had dinner together?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Ming Rao saw Yan Yuchuan’s body stiffen. He hadn’t told his family about Yan Yuchuan’s amnesia and didn’t want it exposed, so he quickly jumped in: “Of course I remember. That was six years ago, wasn’t it?”
That was Ming Rao’s nineteenth birthday, when he had brought Yan Yuchuan to meet his family. Later, when he never showed up again and Ming Rao sank into a long depression, Song Wan had more or less figured out what had happened. She tacitly stopped mentioning Yan Yuchuan’s name, and whenever she heard people talk about the CEO of Xina Technology on TV, in the news, or at social gatherings, she pretended not to know him.
When she heard about Ming Rao’s engagement this time and learned who it was to, Song Wan assumed they had reconciled. As for what had happened in the past, since Ming Rao didn’t want to talk about it, she didn’t press further.
But at this moment, Song Wan was too overjoyed and couldn’t help breaking her own rule, reminiscing: “Back then, Yuchuan was still in the innovation camp. A-Feng kept telling me that this kid had such great ideas and would have a brilliant future.”
Ming Rao squeezed Yan Yuchuan’s hand, and Yan Yuchuan, catching the cue, let out an “Mm.”
“I actually wanted to take a photo with you back then, but unfortunately. it never happened,” Song Wan’s eyes dimmed briefly, but soon, a gentle smile flowed back into them. “But this photo is even better. More meaningful.”
The antique camera’s shutter clicked with a loud “click.” The hissing tail of the sound lingered and echoed, like an ancient bell, and without warning, it carried Ming Rao’s thoughts back to the innovation camp six years ago.
The damp sea breeze of Dawn Bay rushed to meet them, the melodious strings of the charity ball echoing in their ears; looking up, fireworks bloomed in the night sky beyond the Ferris wheel cabin; in the cool, breezy late-night alleys, he sat on the back of a motorcycle, heading home with Yan Yuchuan.
And that tripod that had been set up but then put away, that “family portrait” that was meant to be taken but never was.