After lunch, Liang Jiming headed to the office while Yao Zhen returned to the room to slump on the sofa and play games as usual. Half an hour later, when Liang Jiming returned, the young master was fast asleep, curled up on the sofa with his phone having slipped onto the carpet.
Liang Jiming stepped forward, picked up a cashmere throw nearby to cover him, and bent down to retrieve the phone. A WeChat group notification popped up on the lock screen:
[Zhen-ge you have such high standards, let’s see how many days you can last before getting bored~]
Liang Jiming frowned, clicked the screen black, and set it on the coffee table.
Yao Zhen had only taken a short nap. Before long, he rolled over and opened his eyes. In his blurry vision, he saw Liang Jiming sitting at the other end of the sofa by his feet, looking down intently at some documents.
Yao Zhen stared at his sharp profile for a moment until his brain cleared. He reached out a foot and kicked him. “Baby—”
Liang Jiming ignored him.
Yao Zhen wouldn’t stay still; his bare toes poked at Liang Jiming’s thigh. “Look at me.”
Liang Jiming’s hand pressed down on the young master’s restless ankle. He still didn’t move his eyes from the files, only reminding him: “Your friend sent you a message.”
Yao Zhen raised an eyebrow, propped himself up, and grabbed his phone to swipe it open. Before he’d fallen asleep, that pack of idiots had been bragging in the chat about a new club they visited. Apparently, besides the usual hosts, there were some “muscle men,” and they’d sent photos specifically to ask if he was jealous.
The young master didn’t have enough eyes to roll. He told them to get lost: [None of them are as good-looking as my sweetheart. What is there to look at? [Roll eyes] [Roll eyes] [Roll eyes]]
The chat had exploded with laughter and emojis. Then he’d dropped the phone and passed out.
Yao Zhen’s gaze returned to Liang Jiming’s expressionless face. He pulled his foot back from the man’s grip and kicked him again. “Why were you snooping through my phone?”
“You didn’t put it away.” Liang Jiming’s voice was flat, still not looking up from the paperwork.
“Honestly,” Yao Zhen sat up and leaned into him, swiping through the chat history to show him. “Look, I was praising you.”
Even if it was just bickering with those idiots, he was telling the truth. Purely based on looks, this dog of a man was indeed handsome—otherwise, he couldn’t have tricked Jinghe. Every time Yao Zhen remembered that, he gritted his teeth, occasionally feeling the dark urge to scratch up Liang Jiming’s handsome face.
Liang Jiming glanced at the chat logs. His expression didn’t soften much. He turned to look at him. “If the Young Master isn’t just playing, then tell your friends to stop mocking our relationship. And you should stop using such a flippant tone when mentioning me to them.”
“…” So hard to please.
“Got it,” Yao Zhen uncharacteristically didn’t argue. “Give me a smile.”
Liang Jiming didn’t smile. Instead, he handed him the documents—archives of several past procurement contracts.
Yao Zhen was confused. “Why are you showing me this?”
Liang Jiming said, “The procurement manager has been taking kickbacks from suppliers and letting them provide sub-par goods. These contracts all have issues.”
He had sensed something was wrong when he was helping with the files earlier. After two days in the administration department reviewing quarterly reports, he realized the problem was severe. Since he had admin permissions, he’d specifically checked the warehouse system against the original contracts and pulled the problematic ones.
This was just the tip of the iceberg. This kind of corruption had likely been going on for a long time.
Yao Zhen’s face showed zero surprise. He didn’t even bother looking at the files. “So they take kickbacks. Nothing is ever perfectly clean. As long as they don’t go overboard, it’s fine.”
Liang Jiming’s voice turned cold. “The problem is they have gone overboard. Procurement, engineering, catering—I suspect many are involved. If the you don’t care, this hotel will be closing its doors sooner or later.”
Yao Zhen truly didn’t care. If the hotel closed, that would be perfect—he’d have a legitimate reason to go back. But then he reconsidered. He’d just promised to work hard; he had to at least put on a show. He’d lured this “wife” in himself; he had to humor him.
“Alright, so what do you suggest we do?” the young master asked quite graciously.
Liang Jiming said, “If you want to achieve results, start by clearing out these pests. Begin with an internal reorganization.”
Dating an ambitious guy is exhausting, Yao Zhen thought. Even with amnesia, he was still obsessed with climbing the ladder.
He reminded him with a grin, “The procurement manager you mentioned, and the ones with him—they’re all locals. They’ve been working in this hotel for over a decade, since it opened. They’re the local big shots here. Even Manager Huang can’t suppress them. If you try to get rid of them, there will be trouble. Are you sure?”
The young master wasn’t blind; he knew all about the twists and turns in this broken hotel. He just usually chose to look the other way to save himself the effort.
Liang Jiming had never been afraid of such things. “Then let’s try.”
“Whatever you say.” Yao Zhen didn’t like that overly sharp look in his eyes, so he raised a hand to cover Liang Jiming’s eyes.
Feeling the warmth of the palm against him, Liang Jiming frowned and blinked before pulling the hand down. “Behave.”
Yao Zhen complained with a giggle, “You really are no fun at all.”
Liang Jiming asked him, “Have you forgiven me? Why are you talking to me about being ‘fun’?”
Yao Zhen huffed, “With this attitude, I’ll never forgive you as long as I live.”
Liang Jiming replied, “As long as you don’t go off and cry in secret.”
Yao Zhen actually reached out to scratch him then, but before he could reach the face, he was once again caught by the man’s brute strength. The young master glared. “I’m really getting mad now.”
Liang Jiming raised a hand and patted his head. “Stop being so angry. Your temper is bad enough already.” He really couldn’t bring himself to love this personality—no matter how good the face was.
Yao Zhen said haughtily, “Then smile for me.”
Liang Jiming refused.
The young master insisted: “Come on, smile.”
Liang Jiming tugged at the corners of his mouth in a perfunctory smirk.
“…”
He looks good when he smiles, though.
He’s just too annoying.
……
In the afternoon, Yao Zhen accompanied Liang Jiming to the hospital for a follow-up.
The medicine prescribed earlier was finished, but Liang Jiming’s condition hadn’t improved much. He still lacked continuous memory, though his headaches had lessened slightly and weren’t as frequent as at the start. After the examination, the doctor asked him a few questions. He couldn’t answer them and only said: “I seem to be quite sensitive to legal documents and similar things. Recently, some images have flashed through my mind occasionally, and they’re all related to that…”
Yao Zhen, who was bored and playing on his phone, paused his fingers and looked up.
“Did you work in a related field before your memory loss?” the doctor asked.
Liang Jiming shook his head. “Probably not.”
The doctor said, “It’s also possible that something deeply memorable related to that field happened before. In any case, this is a good sign. Take it slow; don’t push yourself too hard. Overusing your brain can actually work against memory recovery.”
Liang Jiming nodded, not disappointed by the result. The doctor didn’t prescribe more medicine this time, only instructing him to get plenty of rest and relax his mind and nerves to aid recovery.
Leaving the doctor’s office, Yao Zhen had a long face, looking unhappy. “…You never told me you remembered those things.”
They walked to the elevator. Liang Jiming pressed the down button and explained, “I haven’t remembered much. Just some fragmented images—very blurry. There wasn’t much to say.”
“But you still have to tell me,” Yao Zhen said with dissatisfaction. “If you don’t say anything, how am I supposed to know if you’re getting better? Or do you just not want to talk to me, so you’re hiding it on purpose?”
Liang Jiming felt helpless. “Alright, my fault.”
“…” Not sincere at all. Who are you trying to brush off?
Yao Zhen ignored him. When the elevator reached the first floor, he stepped out first.
The ride back was silent. Yao Zhen rolled down the car window and kept his eyes fixed outside. The shifting light and shadows flickered across his face, his long lashes hiding the emotions in his eyes.
Liang Jiming looked over at him several times, wanting to speak but stopping himself. The young master seemed heartless on the surface, but he was actually quite sensitive at times. Liang Jiming began to self-reflect: Am I really being a bit hurtful?
Yao Zhen’s eyelashes fluttered occasionally, but he remained utterly silent.
What Liang Jiming didn’t know was that while the young master stood there facing the wind, he was actually frantically brainstorming. He was trying to figure out what kind of excuse he could use to brush off any questions about those “flashing images” so Liang Jiming wouldn’t get suspicious.
He was so lost in thought that he didn’t react at all. He was getting more panicked by the second.
It hasn’t even been that long, how is he already remembering things?
How am I supposed to keep playing if he gets his memory back? Should I speed up the progress of this “game”?
The car had already pulled back into the hotel, parking outside a side entrance used by staff. Yao Zhen finally snapped out of it and pushed the door open to get out.
Liang Jiming followed him and called out, “Young Master.”
Yao Zhen immediately went on high alert, turning around to look up at him.
Liang Jiming suddenly found himself at a loss for words. Yao Zhen’s eyes were bright red and swimming with tears—no wonder he had been blinking so much in the car earlier.
“You…” He opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say.
Yao Zhen’s eyelashes fluttered a few more times. Some sand had blown into his eyes earlier and it stung like crazy; he was on the verge of actually crying, but he couldn’t care about that now. Seeing the strange look in Liang Jiming’s eyes, he stammered out an explanation: “Actually… before, you had earned a correspondence degree. You were planning to take the bar exam and had been preparing for it. Then, my dad found out about us, and you followed me here.”
Liang Jiming felt a flash of realization. This made his previous desire to leave even more logical; following a “disgraced” young master with no future was nowhere near as promising as seeking another path.
“You didn’t tell me before because you were afraid I’d leave?” he asked.
…You’re surprisingly good at jumping to conclusions.
The young master took the opening: “You were cold to me, planning to leave me, and you even claimed it was for my own good—that you couldn’t ruin me. I didn’t know what you were thinking.”
His irritated eyes blinked a few more times at just the right moment, making the rims of his eyes look even redder from the wind.
Looking at him like this, Liang Jiming felt a surge of complex emotions. Usually, the young master was arrogant and domineering even when sick, but he rarely looked this pitiful and aggrieved—like a puppy terrified of being abandoned.
A rare moment of softness welled up. He really had been too much of a bastard.
Liang Jiming took a step forward and, before Yao Zhen could react, reached out and pulled him into a firm embrace.
Yao Zhen: “…!”
What the hell is he doing?!