In April on Feijing Island, the sunlight was strong enough to peel a layer of skin off a person.
Yao Zhen lay on a lounge chair by the beach. Sunglasses covered most of his face, leaving only a handsome but impatient-looking chin visible.
He had finished half of his whiskey on ice. The cold liquid slid down his throat, but it couldn’t put out the angry fire in his heart.
His phone vibrated non-stop. His group of bad friends was spamming the chat, making plans to go to a newly opened club that night. Someone specifically tagged him.
The more Yao Zhen looked, the more annoyed he got.
[Get lost. This young master is enjoying life; I don’t have time to play with you losers.]
After sending it, he tossed the phone aside face down—out of sight, out of mind.
Enjoying life, my foot.
He was clearly in exile.
Just because he went to jail for street racing with those losers in the middle of the night, his father got angry and packed him off to this island resort. It was called “learning to manage real business.”
It had been over two months. This ghost of a place had nothing but sand and seawater. During the day, you’d dry up like a raisin; at night, you’d be bored to death.
To others, it was a vacation paradise; to him, it felt like prison.
His daily work, besides signing papers, was listening to the hotel manager report tiny, trivial things. The rest of the time, he had to find ways to amuse himself.
The losers had planned to visit his “prison” and party with him these past two days, but plans changed.
The weather forecast wouldn’t stop talking about a typhoon approaching, and all flights were canceled.
“What a hellhole,” Yao Zhen cursed softly. He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and squinted at the sky.
The sky did look wrong—gray and hazy. Clouds began to pile up on the distant horizon, and the sun slowly hid behind them.
The sea breeze carried a sticky dampness, making him feel incredibly restless.
He grabbed his phone and swiped. The hotel manager had sent a list of emergency notices and backup plans.
He glanced at them and closed them immediately. He couldn’t be bothered to look at that stuff.
The typhoon arrived as expected after dark.
Wild winds roared across the sea, kicking up waves several meters high that crashed violently onto the beach. Heavy rain poured down, hitting the glass windows in a loud, scary rhythm.
The entire hotel fell into a tense mood. Staff members rushed back and forth, checking the facilities.
Yao Zhen lay on the large bed in the middle of his suite, wearing noise-canceling headphones and destroying everyone in his game world.
The wind and rain outside had nothing to do with him anyway.
In the second half of the night, he finally couldn’t fight off the sleepiness and drifted off amidst the noise of the storm.
When he woke up again, the sky was just starting to turn light.
The big winds and waves had passed, but it was still raining—a never-ending drizzle.
Yao Zhen rubbed his aching temples and got up, pushing open the glass balcony door.
The salty, damp air hit his face. The scene in front of him made him freeze.
The beach and garden area were a total mess. Several tall trees had been ripped out by the roots and were lying sideways on the ground. Seaweed, broken wood, and all kinds of trash washed up by the waves were everywhere on the sand.
The hotel manager called: “Young Master, the public beach took the worst hit. A huge amount of trash and debris has piled up and needs to be cleared immediately, or it will affect business… Also, we just got word from the Coast Guard that a private yacht went missing nearby during the typhoon. The search and rescue teams are looking for it…”
“I get it,” Yao Zhen interrupted, speaking casually. “You handle the cleanup; just follow the usual steps. The missing yacht doesn’t belong to our hotel, so it’s none of our business. Let me know if there’s any news.”
Hanging up, the young master rubbed his hair in frustration. Although he didn’t want to get involved, as the nominal head of the hotel, he had to at least show his face.
After washing up, he threw on a waterproof jacket, slipped into flip-flops, and took the elevator downstairs. In the lobby, staff were hurrying about while stranded tourists huddled together, gossiping about last night’s storm and that unlucky missing yacht.
Yao Zhen ignored them and walked straight to the side door leading to the beach. As he pushed it open, the cold wind hit him, making him shiver. The beach was in worse shape than it looked from the balcony; workers in raincoats were busy cleaning up.
Frowning, Yao Zhen trudged across the wet, soft sand, cursing the weather under his breath. He held up his phone to snap a few photos, thinking he’d send them to his old man later to act like he was working hard. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something lying among a pile of tangled seaweed and broken wood. Was that a person?
He squinted and instinctively walked closer.
Sure enough, it was a man face-down on the sand. He was soaked to the bone, his white shirt clinging to his back and outlining his broad shoulders, while his dark suit pants were covered in mud and sand. He wasn’t moving; it was hard to tell if he was even breathing.
Startled, Yao Zhen quickly knelt down and carefully reached out to flip him over. A pale but extremely handsome face was revealed. The man’s eyes were closed, his lips so pale they were almost transparent, and his wet hair hung over his forehead, where a wound had already clotted.
Even in this mess, the lines of his face were sharp and striking. Yao Zhen’s heart skipped a beat. He knew this face all too well!
Liang Jiming. The big-shot lawyer, the arrogant prick, his love rival.
But how could it be this Liang guy? Why was he here? And why did he look like this? Shock, confusion, and a bit of joy at his rival’s misfortune flashed through Yao Zhen’s mind instantly.
“Hey! Wake up!” He patted the man’s cold face and checked for breath. It was weak, but he was alive. Although he really wanted to leave him there to fend for himself, he figured saving a life was better than letting him die.
“Lucky you,” Yao Zhen muttered. He gritted his teeth and called over the workers nearby. “Come help me carry this unlucky guy back to the hotel!”
Half an hour later, in Yao Zhen’s private suite on the top floor. The man had been changed into clean pajamas by the workers and placed in a guest bed. A family doctor had just visited, concluding it was a head injury with a mild concussion, some soft tissue bruises, and hypothermia. He needed rest. As for why he remained unconscious, besides physical weakness, there might be other reasons that required further observation.
Yao Zhen sat in the living room with a cup of coffee, his mind drifting. He actually picked up Liang Jiming? Was God playing a joke on him? He truly disliked this lawyer. The first time they met at the Shen family’s private dinner, the way the man looked at him clearly showed his disdain for a “useless rich kid.”
So what if you’re a big lawyer? You look down on me for being unlearned, but this master can bury you in money, Yao Zhen thought bitterly. He had a terrible impression of this man who had stolen his “White Moonlight” (first love) and was set to become the Shen family’s son-in-law.
Jinghe was great in every way; her only flaw was her bad taste in men. This guy had “ambition” written all over his face. Being the apprentice of a top lawyer wasn’t enough; he had to move into the house as a son-in-law. His goal wasn’t Shen Jinghe at all; it was her father’s resources and connections. Yao Zhen worried that as soon as the old lawyer passed away, this guy would swallow the Shen family whole.
As Yao Zhen was lost in thought, an assistant came over and whispered, “Young Master, he’s awake.”
The young master slowly set down his coffee cup, put his hands in his pockets, and strolled into the guest room. Liang Jiming was indeed awake, leaning against the headboard. His face was still pale, but when his deep eyes opened, they held their usual calm and sharp look.
Looking at Yao Zhen, his gaze was strange and slightly wary. Yao Zhen was annoyed by the way he was being sized up. What kind of person is this? I saved his life, and instead of a thank-you, I get this attitude.
Yao Zhen crossed his arms and stared back at the lawyer’s face for a while. He sensed something was wrong but habitually spoke with a sting: “Waking up with so much energy? Guess you’re not going to die after all.”
He wanted to say more, but he saw Liang Jiming frown slightly. With cold, emotionless eyes, the man asked, “Who are you?”
Yao Zhen: “…”
Wait, we at least know each other. I’m not the kind of face you forget in a crowd. Is there a need to ask such an insulting question?
Yao Zhen was stunned for a second. Meeting the man’s questioning gaze, he suddenly realized what was wrong and blurted out: “Do you even know who you are?”
Liang Jiming’s frown deepened. It was obvious—he didn’t know.
The doctor returned, performed another round of checks, and concluded that the memory loss was caused by the concussion. As for when it might return, it was hard to say; he’d need to go to the hospital for a CT scan or an MRI.
“However, since he’s forgotten so completely—to the point of not even remembering his own name—the likelihood of his memory returning in the short term isn’t high.”
The doctor didn’t say this in front of Liang Jiming. Instead, he pulled Yao Zhen aside after stepping out and whispered, “It’s best to take him to a hospital for a detailed examination as soon as possible.”
Yao Zhen listened absentmindedly, his mind repeating a single phrase over and over: Liang Jiming has amnesia… amnesia…
He had rescued Liang Jiming, but was he really supposed to contact his family now? Was he supposed to watch Shen Jinghe fly over in tears, only for the lovers to reunite after their ordeal in some touching display of “true love”?
Absolutely not!
An absurd, bold, and arguably wicked thought sprouted in his mind—
Liang Jiming had amnesia.
He didn’t remember being a high-flying lawyer, he didn’t remember Shen Jinghe, and he didn’t remember… anything.
Now, everything he “knew” would be told to him by Yao Zhen.
The corners of Yao Zhen’s mouth nearly twitched upward. Thinking about such a brilliant game—one rooted in revenge and mischief—made him feel giddy.
After seeing the doctor out, he re-entered the guest room. He suppressed the surge of malicious excitement and switched his expression to a mix of worry, heartache, and frustration.
Taking a few steps forward, he sat by the bed and looked “tenderly” at Liang Jiming, who remained cold and alert.
After a moment, he reached out and gently grasped the hand Liang Jiming had resting on the duvet.
Liang Jiming’s gaze shifted almost imperceptibly.
Yao Zhen softened his voice: “Your name is Ah-Ming.”
Pausing, he continued with a tone of playful reproach: “We had a fight yesterday. You ran out in a fit of anger and got caught in the typhoon…”
He looked into Liang Jiming’s eyes—which remained dark and calm despite the amnesia—and spoke every word clearly: “We are lovers. We’ve been together for a long time.”
“I am,” the young master said, the last two words slipping out like a spell, “your husband.”
[1]Author’s Note:
Liang (Top/Seme) x Yao (Bottom/Uke)
The Top and his fiancée were in a relationship of mutual convenience—no physical intimacy, no feelings.
It’s true that the Top and … Continue reading jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_2587609_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_2587609_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });
References[+]
Author’s Note:
Liang (Top/Seme) x Yao (Bottom/Uke)
The Top and his fiancée were in a relationship of mutual convenience—no physical intimacy, no feelings.
It’s true that the Top and Bottom don’t get along..
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