The setting sun shifted slightly, casting a warm golden glow over Yan Zhuo’s ink black hair. It softened his hardened, rigid face along with it.
Yan Zhuo lowered his head. Jiang Yan stood in front of him and shook his head upon hearing those words: “Not really.”
Yan Zhuo raised his head, staring unblinkingly into Jiang Yan’s eyes. He spoke with a blank tone, sounding just like an innocent, ignorant child.
“Then why is he angry with me?”
Jiang Yan was stumped. For a moment, he didn’t know how to answer. He raised a hand to stroke his chin, deliberated for a brief moment, and put on a profoundly knowing facade.
“In theory, you did nothing wrong. In practice, your method was wrong.”
Yan Zhuo was still confused. “What do you mean?”
Sorry, I haven’t made up the rest of the excuse yet.
Jiang Yan felt utterly helpless, dark lines practically running down his face. He tugged at his hair and then said:
“We’ll talk about it when we get back. Let’s head out first.”
A place of trouble is no place to linger.
Jiang Yan took off his sunglasses, tucked them into his coat pocket, and took two steps forward. Hearing no footsteps behind him, he had to double back to stand before Yan Zhuo, leaning forward slightly: “Do you still want me to hold your hand and lead you?”
“…No need.”
Yan Zhuo turned his face away slightly, muttering under his breath. The midsummer afternoon breeze swept through the shade of the trees between them, scattering the fragrance of roses and leaving only the atmosphere of midsummer behind.
The midsummer twilight had the chirping of cicadas, the scent of hot asphalt on the long streets, roses that seemed forever out of reach, and a back figure that was right before his eyes.
Jiang Yan’s shadow was pulled long and far by the setting sun, stretching all the way to Yan Zhuo’s feet. He followed the shadow as he walked forward.
The car was parked at a different gate. The two took a shortcut through the A University campus. Along the way, Jiang Yan kept looking left and right, while Yan Zhuo walked beside him, watching him crane his neck and following his line of sight.
There was nothing extraordinary, just ordinary things like academic buildings, a gymnasium, a coffee shop, and a dining hall. Yan Zhuo didn’t understand why Jiang Yan was taking such keen interest in all of it.
Yan Zhuo indeed did not understand Jiang Yan, after all, Jiang Yan’s identity was completely fake.
To Yan Zhuo, Jiang Yan was a high-achieving graduate from a top foreign university. In reality, he was nothing of the sort. Having grown up in underground fighting pits, he had never received a normal, complete education. The bloody violence of the underground fighting arenas was the polar opposite of the vibrant, youthful campus before him now.
This was also something he had once yearned for, or been jealous of.
There was no helping it, all one could say was that God is a master screenwriter.
Jiang Yan’s thoughts gradually drifted away, and his gaze dimmed as he recalled the past. Usually sloppy and unrefined, his sudden cold demeanor exposed a trace of decadent annoyance.
Noticing that his expression seemed off, Yan Zhuo asked: “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” Jiang Yan snapped back to reality, letting out a perfunctory smile and making up a random excuse on the spot. “I’m hungry. Let’s find a place to eat before going back.”
“…”
From the kitchen of the small restaurant came the loud, chaotic sounds of cooking. The greasy table gave off a sticky feeling, leaving Yan Zhuo with nowhere to put his hands. Looking visibly uncomfortable, he glanced sideways at Jiang Yan sitting opposite him, fidgeting in his seat.
Jiang Yan took in his restless, squirming posture and found it quite funny: Actually, this guy isn’t all that scary after all.
A flash of inspiration struck him: “You should have used this attitude with Nan Yu earlier.”
Hearing this, Yan Zhuo sneered cold-heartedly: “You think I did something wrong too?”
“…No, no,” Jiang Yan found his point of focus quite strange and explained patiently: “Think about it, what kind of person is Nan Yu? A cheerful, enthusiastic little sunshine. He definitely wouldn’t want you acting so ruthless, it doesn’t match his personality.”
Yan Zhuo’s eyes revealed a hint of confusion.
Jiang Yan snapped his fingers right in front of his face: “You should use a gentler approach, like using love and tenderness. Keep things harmonious and peaceful for everyone.”
Yan Zhuo smiled insincerely without moving his eyes: “Are you lecturing me?”
“…”
He finally saw through it: Yan Zhuo’s temper was just like a stone in a dry latrine pit, foul and hard as iron!
Jiang Yan was momentarily rendered speechless, and the atmosphere between them chilled over. Right on cue, their food was served. Already starving, Jiang Yan pulled a pair of chopsticks from the holder, quickly shoveled down a couple of mouthfuls of rice, and muttered quietly: “Today was a complete waste of a trip.”
Yan Zhuo frowned in refutation: “You were the one who made me come.”
Jiang Yan corrected him: “It’s because you like him that I made you come.”
Otherwise, why would he bother running all this way on a full stomach?
“The cause is you, and the effect is you too.”
Yan Zhuo harbored a burning frustration, his mood utterly gloomy. He pushed back his chair and strode out briskly, as if a dog were chasing him from behind.
Amidst the noisy clatter of the restaurant, only Jiang Yan remained with a look of utter bewilderment.
“You’re not eating?”
“No!”
Hearing that, Jiang Yan instantly shot up from his seat, covering the distance in a few quick strides to grab Yan Zhuo by his sleeve, blocking his path.
“Wait a minute, ”
Yan Zhuo stopped in his tracks, his facial expression softening slightly as his heaving chest calmed down. He gave his wrist a light tug, then held still, turning his head slightly to glare sideways at Jiang Yan’s face: “What is it?”
He emphasized once more:
“I said I’m not eating.”
“Can you pay the bill before you leave?”
“…”
Yan Zhuo’s gaze gradually turned dangerous, his expression turning as black as the bottom of a pot. Jiang Yan instantly let go of his grip, and before Yan Zhuo could dissect him with his eyes, he hastily added a line:
“I have no money.”
“You haven’t paid my salary yet.”
Yan Zhuo was practically laughed to anger. He narrowed his eyes, turned around to inspect Jiang Yan, and the latter immediately pulled out his pants pockets inside out to prove he really had no money, his pockets were cleaner than his face.
Weak, pathetic, and embarrassed.
Yan Zhuo felt as if his punch had landed on cotton. He took a deep, heavy breath, bumped past Jiang Yan’s shoulder… and went over to pay the bill.
By the time they returned to the villa, the night sky had completely darkened. Jiang Yan was huddled over the toilet in the bathroom, vomiting uncontrollably until his mouth was filled with nothing but bitter bile.
Damn it, the restaurant from earlier wasn’t clean.
Luckily, Yan Zhuo hadn’t eaten.
Once he finished throwing up, he felt hungry again. Jiang Yan felt he must have been a starved ghost in a past life. He went to the kitchen to try his luck, and his eyes lit up the instant he opened the refrigerator.
Relief supplies from the court have arrived!
As he was washing the rice to cook, Jiang Yan paused in his movements, his gaze drifting upstairs. That guy hasn’t eaten a single thing all day, has he? He sure can endure hunger.
Forget it, forget it. If he starves to death, my money goes down the drain too, Jiang Yan mused to himself, throwing another handful of rice into the pot.
Before long, the rice began to give off the comforting aroma of cooked grain, and hot steam carrying the scent of cooked food rose from the pans in the kitchen. For the first time in a long while, this villa had a faint trace of warmth and human life.
The night sky was like a dark curtain. No lights were turned on in the room, making it so dark that not a single ray could pierce through. The moonlight poured down like water, soaking Yan Zhuo thoroughly as he stood dripping wet before the floor-to-ceiling window.
He lit a cigarette. The scarlet spark pierced through the pitch-black night, and a white veil draped over the moon as the lingering smoke blurred his deep, sharp facial features.
He flipped the cap of his lighter back and forth. The clicking sounds echoed like the slap Nan Yu had landed on his hand earlier in the day. Why was that Omega, who couldn’t wait to avoid him, nestling in another Alpha’s arms? On what grounds?
Small flames rose and flickered out, yet the sinister darkness in Yan Zhuo’s eyes grew and spread wildly. A chill burst forth from his cold eyes: On what grounds was he always the one being abandoned?
On what grounds, exactly?
Knock, knock, knock,
“Open up.”
The familiar knocking sounded once again, still delivered with that life-risking force that only Jiang Yan could pull off. Yan Zhuo subconsciously turned toward the door, freezing slightly. A chunk of ash fell from his cigarette, burning his fingertip with a sudden burst of heat.
“What is it?”
Yan Zhuo cracked the door open a sliver, speaking through the gap.
“Come down and eat,” Jiang Yan pointed downstairs and explained, “I cooked some food. Come have some with me.”
“I’m not eating.”
Yan Zhuo rejected out of habit, but in the next second, Jiang Yan dragged him right out of the room. The hallway outside was brightly lit, forcing Yan Zhuo to squint slightly to adjust to the brightness.
“Why?” Jiang Yan chuckled at the sight, leaning sideways against the doorframe as he scanned Yan Zhuo up and down. “Don’t Alphas get hungry?”
“I’m not hungry.”
Because they were standing close, Jiang Yan caught the faint whiff of cigarette smoke on him. He straightened his posture and tilted his chin toward Yan Zhuo.
“Did you smoke?”
For no reason at all, Yan Zhuo didn’t want Jiang Yan to know. It felt like being caught red-handed doing something bad, leaving him feeling inexplicably guilty. He avoided Jiang Yan’s eyes and said stiffly:
“None of your business.”
“Smoking is bad for your health.”
“I said it’s none of your business.”
Yan Zhuo’s tone turned irritable as he tried to pull back into his room, but Jiang Yan grabbed his wrist and dragged him downstairs.
“Go down and eat.”
Yan Zhuo yanked at his hand, but couldn’t break free. Deep down, he felt even more frustrated, a flare of anger rising within him.
“I don’t want to eat!”
Jiang Yan stopped in his tracks, glanced back at him, and spoke in an offhand yet imperiously unyielding tone:
“I cooked too much. You have to eat.”
Once the dishes were placed on the dining table, the nose-tingling aroma suddenly triggered Yan Zhuo’s hunger. A pair of chopsticks was stuffed into his hands, and a bowl of rice appeared in front of him. Awkwardly, he brought a few grains of rice into his mouth.
Jiang Yan enthusiastically served a piece of food into Yan Zhuo’s bowl, speaking up under his bewildered gaze: “Mr. Yan, can I discuss something with you?”
Hearing his lighthearted, casual tone, Yan Zhuo’s movements froze unconsciously. To be honest, whenever he heard Jiang Yan call him ‘President Yan’ or ‘Mr. Yan’, he instinctively felt that something bad was about to happen.
“What do you want to do now?”
He could never guess what Jiang Yan was thinking. This man was sly as a fox, yet also like a cloud in the distant sky, you could clearly see him, but you could never touch him.
Jiang Yan was hollow inside.
“Could you ask the cook to make a portion of food for me every day too?”
“Huh?”
Hearing this, Yan Zhuo raised his head in utter confusion. Catching his gaze, Jiang Yan seemed to connect to a signal and instantly began pouring out his tragic experiences of the past few days like spilling a sack of beans.
“I’ve been at your place for a whole week, and I haven’t had a single full meal the entire week. Today I finally managed to eat my fill in the afternoon, and I threw it all back up.”
“Go out and ask around: which wealthy family’s domineering CEO doesn’t feed his housekeeper?” Jiang Yan’s tone shifted sharply as something occurred to him. “You didn’t do this on purpose, did you?”
“I didn’t!”
Yan Zhuo immediately refuted: “I never told them not to feed you.”
“Well, you never told them to feed me either!”
Jiang Yan slammed his hands on the table and stood up, looking intensely agitated. Yan Zhuo was startled by his dramatic stance, subconsciously holding his bowl and pulling back, his face displaying a blank stillness like never before.
“The whole villa acts like I don’t exist and doesn’t take me seriously at all. I’m the housekeeper! Shouldn’t I manage the whole household?” Jiang Yan pointed at his own nose, shouting with all his might in utter grievance, “And what happened? They said Mr. Yan gave no orders, so they had to follow the rules and only prepare food for one person!”
“I have to eat leftover scrapes every single day!”
Saying it out loud was enough to make people laugh their heads off!
“And that refrigerator of yours,” Jiang Yan declared with righteous indignation, gesturing toward the kitchen, “If it’s a refrigerator, put some stuff inside it. If it’s not, sell it quickly so it stops taking up space!”
Yan Zhuo blinked. He looked at Jiang Yan, who was gasping for air, and then looked down at the rice bowl in his hands. Softened by the meal he was taking, he slowly nodded his head.
Heaven knew, Jiang Yan truly felt wronged.
The villa was located in the suburbs, so he couldn’t even get food delivery. He wanted to go out and buy groceries, but he couldn’t drive any of the cars in the garage, and there wasn’t even a tiny electric scooter.
In his past life, he was beaten to death, in this life, he might just die of starvation.
It had been a very long time since he lived through days where he couldn’t get enough to eat.
Staying in a luxury estate for just a few days had actually made him reminisce about his grim past.
The three periods in Jiang Yan’s life where he couldn’t eat his fill: at the orphanage, in the underground fighting ring, and in Yan Zhuo’s luxurious villa.
Absurd.
Ridiculous!
Scolded from top to bottom, Yan Zhuo sat uncomfortably, his thin lips twitching slightly as he weakly defended himself. “You never told me.”