He’s So Weird
Ying Zhu withdrew his hand, his expression calm. “Nothing.”
Cen Xie scrutinized him suspiciously for a moment before turning his gaze to the foot of the bed, staring blankly at his own foot through the blanket.
Ying Zhu followed his gaze. After a moment of silence, he said, “The doctor said you can get a prosthesis.”
His tone was flat, devoid of any hint of guilt.
Cen Xie didn’t react. He kept his head lowered, his expression unreadable, lost in thought. The ward was quiet, filled with the faint, lingering scent of osmanthus.
Cen Xie was not the type to show weakness in front of others. He quickly composed himself, looked up at Ying Zhu, and asked, “So, what do you want now?”
Looking at the obvious hostility in Cen Xie’s eyes, Ying Zhu was momentarily at a loss. Indeed, what did he want?
When he was reading the memory card and heard his own mouth call out Cen Xie’s name, he hadn’t had time to consider anything; his first instinct was simply to bring the man back.
But now that he had calmed down, what exactly was he planning?
So what if that Omega was Cen Xie? The man had indeed tried to kill him multiple times, and he truly possessed secrets enough to blackmail him. Would any of that change just because they had shared that kind of relationship?
Ying Zhu wasn’t ready to tell Cen Xie about the memory yet, as there were many things he hadn’t thought through.
According to government regulations, to protect military secrets, veterans are forbidden from selling their memories. But regulations are just regulations; the law also forbids the sale of restricted-grade memory cards, yet you can find them in abundance on the dark web.
He couldn’t be sure if Cen Xie’s memory had been stolen without his knowledge or if he had sold it himself. He also couldn’t be certain if this man would stand on his side.
After some thought, Ying Zhu decided to placate him first. “Regarding the past, there might be some misunderstandings between us. Everything can be discussed properly; there’s no need for a life-and-death struggle.”
“Misunderstandings?” The words almost made Cen Xie laugh. “Which part was a misunderstanding? Me threatening you? Me trying to kill you? You blowing up my building? Or you having your man cripple my foot?”
The implication was clear: The bridge is already burned, don’t bother trying to patch it up.
Ying Zhu pursed his lips and remained silent, his expression still indifferent. After a pause, he asked, “What are your demands?”
Cen Xie leaned back against the headboard, watching Ying Zhu. He knew Ying Zhu was running for Mayor of Star County in the next election, and he knew what Ying Zhu was afraid of right now. One was the leak of the loophole in Usher Prison, and the other was those photos he had taken.
If those two issues were exposed, it would be a double blow to Ying Zhu’s professional competence and personal conduct; his political career would essentially be over.
Does he think force won’t work, so he’s switching to a ‘soft’ policy? Cen Xie thought. Ying Zhu and Zheng Yun were playing “good cop, bad cop,” and they were coordinating perfectly.
He couldn’t stay in the hospital any longer. After a moment of deliberation, he made his first demand: “I want to be discharged.”
Ying Zhu rejected it without a second thought. “No. You need your dressings changed daily, and you need check-ups…”
Cen Xie guessed he just wanted to keep him confined in the hospital for control. Unwilling to listen to high-sounding excuses, he interrupted directly, enunciating every word: “I. Want. To be discharged.”
Ying Zhu didn’t speak. He met Cen Xie’s gaze calmly, and a silent standoff ensued in the quiet ward. After a long while, Ying Zhu made an unexpected compromise: “Fine.”
His easy agreement actually surprised Cen Xie a little.
……
The next afternoon, Ying Zhu handled the discharge papers. Before they left, a caregiver pushed a wheelchair to the bedside. Cen Xie pulled back the blanket, preparing to use his arms to heave himself over.
Suddenly, his vision went dark as Ying Zhu stepped over and effortlessly picked him up. With a turn, Cen Xie was placed steadily into the wheelchair.
Cen Xie: “…”
He looked up at Ying Zhu, eyes wide and mouth twitching, looking as if he’d seen a ghost.
Something is wrong. Very wrong.
Ying Zhu said nothing as he pushed the wheelchair out, the caregiver following with their bags. In the hospital parking lot, Ying Zhu pushed him to the car and opened the passenger door.
In just one day, Ying Zhu had already had the car modified for accessibility. The passenger seat slowly rotated outward and lowered. Ying Zhu lifted Cen Xie from the wheelchair onto the seat and pressed a button; the seat rotated back into the cabin.
Cen Xie watched him with that same “seen a ghost” expression.
Once Cen Xie was settled, Ying Zhu walked around to the driver’s side. The caregiver went to return the wheelchair, leaving them to wait in the car.
Cen Xie sat in the passenger seat, glancing sideways at Ying Zhu. This was the first time he had looked so closely at Ying Zhu’s profile—noble and serene, with a straight, handsome nose. Evenly distributed flesh covered sharp angles, and his long, downcast eyelashes cast shadows under his eyes in the sunlight.
When he was being casual, even the shape of his lips looked cold.
As he was observing, Ying Zhu suddenly turned his head to look at him and frowned.
Cen Xie snapped back: “What is it?”
Ying Zhu didn’t answer. He suddenly leaned over toward him.
Cen Xie felt like something was wrong with himself, too; seeing Ying Zhu lean in, his first instinct wasn’t to strike back, but rather a sense of awkwardness. He raised his hands in a defensive gesture at his sides, trying to pull away.
He opened his mouth to speak, but then—whoosh—followed by a click. Ying Zhu had pulled out the seatbelt and fastened it for him.
Ying Zhu buckled the belt with an expressionless face and sat back in silence.
Cen Xie looked at him, completely baffled. Ying Zhu had suddenly started treating him in a way that shouldn’t exist between them.
If this is for the sake of the photos and the prison secrets, Ying Zhu’s sacrifice is honestly a bit too much. This practically counts as “enduring hardship to plot revenge,” doesn’t it?
The caregiver returned and got into the back seat, and Ying Zhu started the car.
He drove to a detached villa in the western suburbs. This was his private property, a place he rarely visited. He had spent the previous night arranging for people to clean it. The environment was quiet and beautiful, fully equipped—perfect for recovery.
But Cen Xie took one look from the car and said, “I’m not staying here.”
Surprisingly, Ying Zhu didn’t complain about him being difficult. Instead, he asked patiently, “Why not?”
Cen Xie looked at the servants standing at the door. “Too many people.”
Ying Zhu: “You’re recovering. You can’t take care of yourself right now. You need people.”
Cen Xie: “If you put a bunch of strangers whose backgrounds I don’t know around me, how am I supposed to recover?”
Ying Zhu understood men like Cen Xie. They lived their lives on the edge; they had a primal distrust of others and remained vigilant at all times.
He thought about how he had blown up Cen Xie’s home and crippled his foot. Within his icy heart, a rare, unfamiliar emotion stirred. He asked, “Then what do you want?”
Cen Xie was surprised again. He still hadn’t found the edge of Ying Zhu’s bottom line—why was this man being so indulgent? It was too strange. He decided to push even further: “I want to go back to the East District.”
Ying Zhu frowned, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. “Why didn’t you say so when we were at the hospital?”
His tone and expression clearly suggested that Cen Xie was being overly dramatic and intentionally difficult.
Cen Xie was stunned, opening his mouth but finding no words. He couldn’t exactly say, I was prepared for you to imprison me, but you’re telling me you had no such intention?
So…
He turned his head again to look at the servants by the villa entrance. So, the people Ying Zhu had arranged were really just there to take care of him? Not to spy?
Ying Zhu didn’t say anything else. He drove the car and, following Cen Xie’s directions, arrived at another of Cen Xie’s residences in the East District. On the way, Cen Xie made a phone call using Ying Zhu’s phone.
Ying Zhu delivered him to the gate of a large courtyard. Hearing the car, an Alpha immediately came out with a wheelchair prepared and helped Cen Xie out of the vehicle. This courtyard was very secluded; aside from this Alpha, Ying Zhu didn’t see anyone else.
Sitting in the wheelchair, Cen Xie looked at Ying Zhu through the window and hesitated: “Goodbye?”
Ying Zhu looked at him for a moment before withdrawing his gaze. He said nothing, stepped on the gas, and drove away.
As Cen Xie watched Ying Zhu’s car disappear, he grew increasingly uncertain about what the man was actually up to.