The morning started with an executive meeting, with department directors and managers delivering work reports in a relatively relaxed and harmonious atmosphere. However, the subsequent board meeting descended into a chaotic squabble; standing outside the door, Lin Xun could occasionally hear heated arguments leaking through the gap in the door.
After nearly half an hour of arguing, the meeting paused.
Several middle-aged men with displeased expressions pushed open the door and stepped out to go smoke in the nearby lounge.
Lin Xun wanted to peek inside, but Huo Tingxiao happened to walk over to the doorway at that exact moment, causing Lin Xun’s head to almost bump into the man’s shoulder.
Huo Tingxiao raised his hand to support the back of his head.
Lin Xun straightened up immediately like he had received an electric shock.
“Pretty boring, isn’t it?” Huo Tingxiao said.
Lin Xun shook his head, following him back up to the top-floor CEO office.
Ding Jun worked with remarkable efficiency, having already assigned someone to set up a workstation equipped with a computer, positioned directly across from Huo Tingxiao’s desk from a distance.
Huo Tingxiao pulled a book from the bookshelf and handed it to Lin Xun.
“I’ve only read half of it. Finish reading the rest for me, and then write me a summary.”
Lin Xun took the book. Printed on the cover were two words: The Quagmire.
Huo Tingxiao smiled: “No rush, take your time.”
Taking a moment to handle two files, he went back downstairs to continue the meeting, leaving Lin Xun behind.
Lin Xun sat at his workstation, staring at Huo Tingxiao’s desk for half a minute before dropping his gaze back to the book cover in his hands.
Back in his school days, he had no friends and no other hobbies, so he had read a great deal of books.
This copy of The Quagmire was among them.
He vaguely recalled that it was a story about a protagonist who suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder and endured endless torment after undergoing a major traumatic event.
Why had Huo Tingxiao asked him to read this book?
He believed that every word Huo Tingxiao said and every action he took carried a deeper meaning.
Like that line from last night: “I don’t like secrets.”
What did the secret refer to?
Did it purely refer to the fact that his vocal cords were intact, yet he couldn’t bring himself to speak?
Lin Xun thought it over again and again, not daring to jump to conclusions.
He could only temporarily infer from Huo Tingxiao’s attitude that the man likely hadn’t connected him with “Wen Chichuan” for the time being.
It was purely due to Lin Xun’s own guilty conscience that he overthought things, even having that nightmare.
Huo Tingxiao was probably just curious why he couldn’t speak.
Thinking back to the alarm in the elevator hall that morning—even though it was a misunderstanding, the tension had been real.
It gave Lin Xun a direct realization: if he chose to remain mute forever, he would become a weak link in Huo Tingxiao’s security system.
Lin Xun put down the book and opened the search engine on the computer.
After looking up information until noon, he went downstairs, only to find that the board meeting still hadn’t ended.
Ding Jun came out of the pantry holding a coffee pot. Seeing Lin Xun, he said: “This won’t wrap up anytime soon. I’ll have someone take you to the staff cafeteria.”
Lin Xun shook his head, pulling out his phone to ask: Is anyone causing trouble?
Since it was a board meeting, Huo Tingxiao’s second uncle and Huo Xu should be there as well. He was worried last night’s farce would repeat itself.
Ding Jun smiled: “Don’t worry, at most they’ll just engage in a war of words and inquire after each other’s families.”
Lin Xun: “…”
Ding Jun said: “This is the company, nothing major will go wrong. You don’t need to be so tense.”
He handed the coffee pot to Lin Xun: “Do me a favor.”
Lin Xun pushed open the conference room door.
Behind the U-shaped table, several board members were locking horns in a fierce debate, while a few spots with name cards remained empty.
Huo Tingxiao sat at the head seat, watching them argue with an expressionless face.
Lin Xun carried the coffee pot over to refill his cup, and Huo Tingxiao’s gaze naturally fell upon him.
The two exchanged a brief look.
Huo Tingxiao lazily raised an eyebrow first, then casually scanned the surroundings, before finally raising three fingers to form a gun and tapping it lightly against his temple.
Lin Xun almost failed to hold back a smile.
He figured he must be crazy to think that Huo Tingxiao even looked handsome using sign language to curse at people.
Utterly beyond saving.
After pouring the coffee, he didn’t rush to leave.
Right in front of him, Huo Tingxiao sent him a message: Finished the book?
Lin Xun couldn’t openly use his phone like him, so he could only turn sideways, holding his phone low near his pants pocket to type with one hand: Almost.
Keeping a cold face while acting on the sly looked a little comical, and a little cute.
Huo Tingxiao let out a low laugh.
Sensing his reaction, several board members instantly looked over in unison. One of them, suppressing his anger, asked: “Does President Huo have any thoughts?”
Lin Xun cast a cold glance over.
Huo Tingxiao’s smile remained undiminished: “Carry on.”
The phone vibrated softly.
Lin Xun looked down to see a new message pop up on the screen.
【Huo Tingxiao: The meeting will last all day, no need to guard me.】
Lin Xun thought for a moment, typing to ask: Can I step out for a bit? I’ll be back soon.
Huo Tingxiao replied: Going to find your crawfish friend again?
Lin Xun couldn’t help but smile slightly.
Just as he was about to text an explanation, he saw Huo Tingxiao place his phone face-down on the table and crook a finger at him casually.
Lin Xun froze slightly, then bent down and leaned close.
Huo Tingxiao covered his mouth with his hand, whispering low in his ear: “Take a car. Come back at five in the afternoon to pick me up.”
His breath was filled entirely with the cold, woody fragrance, quite pleasant. Lin Xun nodded with a restless heart, leaving the conference room somewhat distracted, turning back to look several times.
It was only when he stepped into the elevator and felt the cool air hit him that he snapped back to reality.
Driving a supercar was too eye-catching, so Lin Xun decided to take a taxi instead.
On the way, he re-read his conversation with Huo Tingxiao over and over, only putting his phone down when the taxi driver reminded him that they had arrived.
Hanhai Psychological clinic—the three-word sign gleamed brightly under the sunlight.
This was a private psychological counseling clinic with a solid reputation online, and it wasn’t far from the Huansheng Building. At one o’clock in the afternoon, Lin Xun met Dr. Qin Han, whom he had booked an appointment with.
The other party had an friendly and easygoing attitude, but Lin Xun was not someone who easily opened his heart or lowered his guard.
That comfortable, soft hypnosis chair made him feel even more uncomfortable than leg irons in a fighting ring.
“Relax, just treat it like casual chatting with a friend.”
Qin Han read through the written self-description Lin Xun had prepared in advance. It was only a few short lines, briefly summarizing his basic personal situation.
It stated that his loss of voice occurred six years ago, the year he had just turned eighteen.
“What happened six years ago?” Qin Han asked.
Lin Xun tightened his grip on his phone, an aching pain throbbing deep in his throat.
He knew this was just phantom pain, an illusion.
Taking a deep breath, he typed: Suffered an injury, fractured hyoid bone.
Qin Han went silent for a second, then asked again: “Who beat you?”
Lin Xun’s face turned pale in an instant, the veins at his temples throbbing—he was extremely unwilling to recall the past.
Qin Han handed him a glass of water and said: “Don’t push yourself, take it slow.”
He didn’t practice aggressive therapy. To regulate Lin Xun’s emotions, Qin Han asked him to first think about something beautiful related to when he was eighteen.
Beautiful?
The very first thing that came to Lin Xun’s mind was Huo Tingxiao.
It was also the only answer he could think of.
“Is it your first love?”
Qin Han was exceptionally good at observing his client’s expressions and engaging their emotions. “What kind of person are they?”
Lin Xun’s typing speed noticeably picked up: Very warm, helped me many times, good at basketball, plays the piano beautifully, and has a very beautiful smile.
Qin Han smiled: “I can tell you like her very much.”
Lin Xun typed with complete gravity: They are the sum of all things beautiful.
Qin Han noticed the third-person pronoun used, but as a seasoned professional counselor, he showed not a trace of surprise and continued asking: “How is your relationship now?”
Lin Xun gripped his phone case tightly, taking a long time without answering.
Pondering for a moment, Qin Han asked again: “Is it because of him that you want to start speaking again?”
This time, Lin Xun gave an affirmative answer.
The timer sitting on the doctor’s desk suddenly chimed, signaling that the session was drawing to a close.
Resetting the timer, Qin Han said: “Overcoming a psychological barrier is a long-term process. You’ve already taken the most important step today.”
He extended his hand, offering Lin Xun a smile: “I hope to see you again.”
Lin Xun shook his hand. As he rose and walked toward the door, Qin Han suddenly called out to him, adding one last thing:
“Remember the drive that brought you into this office—use it as your anchor.”
Lin Xun looked back at the clinic sign above his head.
His trip here was largely driven by an impulse. If he truly made up his mind to undergo treatment, he would have to maintain a regular counseling frequency.
That being the case, it would definitely alert Huo Tingxiao.
Perhaps right now, Huo Tingxiao already knew through the tracking chip that he had come to see a psychologist.
How would Huo Tingxiao react?
He had said he didn’t like secrets—so could he openly unpack the past and lay all his cards on the table?
Lin Xun agonized over this the whole way back.
He tried to cast aside his stray thoughts, wanting to say “thank you” when paying the taxi fare, only to wind up turning beet red from holding it in.
The taxi driver was anxious for him, assuming he couldn’t hold his bladder, and hurriedly drove him another hundred meters ahead: “Over there! The public restroom is over there!”
Lin Xun got out of the car in deep embarrassment.
He walked back with his head down, the summer sunlight burning his skin painfully. Just as irritation was swelling in his heart, someone happened to walk right into the line of fire.
—Huo Xu walked out of the elevator in a foul mood, bumping straight into him at the ground-floor reception.
As they passed each other, Huo Xu muttered a snide “useless dog.”
Lin Xun checked his phone, confirming there was still plenty of time before the agreed five o’clock time. He immediately turned around and strode after him.
With too many eyes around the company, it was inconvenient to take action. He endured and tailed him all the way until Huo Xu got off his car and entered an entertainment club, where Lin Xun finally found his chance.
He first avoided the surveillance cameras, taking a detour around the outer street. He casually bought a baseball cap from a roadside stall to put on, then used a mask to cover half his face. After ensuring that no camera would capture clear facial features, he walked into the club.
Since it wasn’t peak business hours in the afternoon, Lin Xun found Huo Xu with ease.
Before the other party could react, he had already swung a wine bottle right over Huo Xu’s head, splitting it wide open.
Glass shards burst everywhere.
The two hostesses screamed, scrambling away to huddle into a ball in the corner.
“Agh, holy shit!”
Liquor mixed with blood splattered across his face. As Huo Xu cursed and tried to stand up, another punch met him face-on, knocking him right back onto the sofa.
Shocked and enraged, he glared at the uninvited guest.
Even though this person had their face tightly covered, those eyes exposed on the outside—sharp and intimidating like a wolfhound’s—were ones Huo Xu had just seen last night. He could never mistake them.
“Huo Tingxiao actually fucking dares to set his dog on me! Playing dirty with me now, huh?!”
Lin Xun wasn’t surprised at being recognized.
On the contrary, if Huo Xu had still asked who he was at a time like this, he would have had to draw a massive exclamation mark for his stupidity instead.
The only reason he hid his face was simply to avoid leaving video evidence that could be used as leverage against him.
Huo Xu still wanted to curse and fight back, but Lin Xun swung another punch.
He kept going until Huo Xu’s arrogant demeanor was thoroughly crushed out of him.
One of Huo Xu’s front teeth was knocked loose, his mouth full of blood, and he took several kicks to his chest and abdomen, curling up on the ground in agony while crying out continuously.
Lin Xun stepped on Huo Xu’s shoulder, freeing up a hand to type a few words, then grabbed him by the hair, forcing him to look at the phone screen.
【I am the one beating you. He knows nothing about it. I will beat you again in the future—every single time I see you.】
Huo Xu pointed at him in fury, slurring incoherently: “You… you just wait…”
The rest of his words were replaced by a miserable wail of agony.
Lin Xun snapped his index finger.
Swift and ruthless.
The cold AI voice sounded: “Next time you point at someone’s face again, I will chop it off. I mean what I say.”