Inside the car, the two men sat in silence. Meng Xinghui held his breath, gripping the seatbelt so tightly that his nails dug into the leather strap and his own skin.
The events Shen Qiu had just orchestrated replayed in his mind, and the words he’d used to intimidate Brother Lin still echoed in his ears. His eyes involuntarily drifted toward the driver’s seat.
Trying to break the stifling tension, Meng Xinghui found a topic. “Where’s Uncle Zhang?”
Sensing the stolen glances, Shen Qiu explained, “Uncle Zhang went to a parent-teacher conference for his grandson.”
“Uncle Zhang has a grandson? I’ve only ever heard him mention a granddaughter.” Meng Xinghui hadn’t known about another grandchild.
“His granddaughter was raised by him and his wife from a young age, so they’re closer to her. His grandson was born two years later. His son is away on a business trip this week, and his daughter-in-law is busy with work, so he’s the only one who could attend.”
Silence fell between them once more.
“Thank you, Shen Qiu,” Meng Xinghui said, his gaze lowered.
Shen Qiu knew exactly what he was thanking him for. “No need.”
“I should be the one saying sorry. Because of my negligence, you’ve suffered these past few weeks.”
He had been inconsiderate. By not asserting his authority at the company, he had left Meng Xinghui, whom he’d brought in, vulnerable to discrimination.
“No, the work I do is messy, but it’s not tiring at all. I’ve done much harder work before—I’ve carried bricks and cement, moved furniture and appliances, and even worked at heights.”
Meng Xinghui simply recounted the jobs he’d done in the past. “You don’t need to apologize to me. If it weren’t for you, Meng Xinghui would have left this world long ago.”
He had lost everything. Perhaps he was meant to quietly vanish from this world.
This was his destiny.
Shen Qiu’s eyes flickered, a hidden pang of heartache stirring within him.
【System, in the original novel, Meng Xinghui died in a car accident caused by Lin Miao. When he died, did he struggle?】
System 003 replied, 【No. The original novel describes it like this: Meng Xinghui’s limbs were wracked with excruciating pain, as if someone were forcibly tearing them apart. He couldn’t feel his lower body.】
【The blinding white light was dazzling. The ambulance rushed in with a noisy urgency, and chaotic footsteps overlapped.】
【Figures were blurred, a sea of blood mixed with a kaleidoscope of expressions.】
【A cold blade sliced through flesh and blood as the medication gradually took effect.】
【Meng Xinghui felt as if he were falling into an icy lake. Once, this place had been a glacier, and the glacier was slowly melting. He thought he could finally embrace a new life, but was he still destined to die in the end?】
【Let it be, then. Die in a world where no one cares, Meng Xinghui.】
【Doctor: The patient is brain-dead.】
“Meng Xinghui, do you want to become stronger?” Shen Qiu’s gaze remained fixed on the road ahead.
Meng Xinghui’s almond-shaped eyes wavered. He bit his dry lips lightly. “I do.” He looked out the car window, his posture awkward.
Shen Qiu, if I work a little harder, could the gap between us narrow?
No, how could that be possible? A trace of indescribable bitterness clouded his eyes. What’s wrong with me?
Harboring such unrealistic fantasies.
A playful smile curved Shen Qiu’s lips, his mischief intensifying as his plans took shape. Well then, I won’t hold back. Enjoy your last moments of leisure.
Because you’re going to be very busy after this.
He turned the steering wheel away from the direction of home, and the scenery outside began to change.
The towering skyscrapers gradually gave way to low-rise buildings, only five or six stories tall. Their walls, weathered by wind and rain, had peeling paint that revealed the marks of time.
Unlike the cold, bustling city center, this place was alive with the warmth of daily life. Street vendors lined the roads, and small groups of people gathered around the stalls, eating, drinking, and chatting about the mundane details of their lives.
Shen Qiu pulled out the key, and the engine died. “Get out of the car.”
Confused, Meng Xinghui obeyed. The cold wind swept under his jacket, sending a chill through his neck. “What are we doing in the old district?”
“I’m taking you to eat.” Shen Qiu blended into the night market, his sharp suit and leather shoes a stark contrast to the crowd. In this moment, Shen Qiu’s true self emerged.
He had shed his disguise. He was no longer the aloof President Shen of the corporation, nor the heir his father hoped would fulfill his dreams. He was simply himself, as he had always been.
His eyes, deep and vast as the starry night sky, seemed to be favored by the moonlight, a testament to his innate brilliance.
Shen Qiu had always been exceptionally refined and distinguished.
Meng Xinghui blinked. He, who had lost everything, felt as if the only thing he had left in this world was the medical debt he owed Shen Qiu.
“He’s so handsome,” Meng Xinghui murmured to himself.
He stumbled through the crowd, struggling to keep up with Shen Qiu’s figure. His heart hammered in his chest, the sound thumping against his eardrums.
They entered a small eatery.
The shop was tiny, tucked away at the end of a street corner. It was filled with wooden tables and plastic stools, packed with people smoking, drinking, chatting, and playing cards.
With no room inside, the two had to sit outside. Shen Qiu naturally took a seat on a plastic stool, pulled a tissue from the table, and wiped away the grease.
He looked like a regular.
Meng Xinghui felt as if he were still dreaming. Shen Qiu seemed completely unfazed by the grimy environment. He ventured to ask, “Do you come here often?”
This place was so completely unlike Shen Qiu. In Meng Xinghui’s mind, Shen Qiu belonged in a high-end restaurant, not a roadside stall.
Shen Qiu’s eyebrows arched sharply. “Hmm? What do you like to eat? Brother Tang’s stir-fries are delicious.”
Meng Xinghui shook his head, his posture stiff and formal. “I don’t have anything I particularly like.”
“So you’re shy now? You weren’t acting like this in the office today.”
A steaming cup of tea appeared before him.
Shen Qiu poured himself a cup as well.
“When was I ever shy? You were the one blocking me while I was cleaning. And that money tree was growing perfectly fine—how could you just prune its leaves?”
Meng Xinghui’s eyes shimmered as he lifted the paper cup and took a small sip.
Alright, so the little white flower is starting to speak up for himself.
Shen Qiu said nothing more. He looked up, saw Brother Tang, and waved him over.
Brother Tang was a burly man standing six feet tall. Despite the late autumn chill, he wore a sleeveless white T-shirt that showed off his tanned skin. “Shen Qiu’s here! What are we eating today? I just got some fresh beef in yesterday. Want some?”
Shen Qiu thought for a moment. “Poached beef, spicy stir-fried bullfrog, sautéed seasonal vegetables, and a seaweed and egg drop soup.”
“And two bowls of rice.”
Brother Tang scribbled on his notepad. “Got it. I’ll give you extra portions. Enjoy your meal!”
The dishes were served quickly.
Meng Xinghui kept his head down, eating. Meanwhile, Shen Qiu’s plan was already taking shape.
Bored, Meng Xinghui kicked a small pebble on the street. Cars sped past, their wake tossing his hair.
What are they talking about? he wondered, continuing to kick the pebble.
A cold gust of wind swept by, dispersing the smoke.
Brother Tang crushed his cigarette butt. “Your friend?”
“Yeah.”
“He looks a bit fragile. You should bring him to the boxing gym sometime.” After his assessment, Brother Tang asked, “How have you been lately?”
“I’m fine. Don’t think I’m that fragile.”
Brother Tang scratched his head. “Alright, I guess I’m overthinking it.”
“I really don’t know what to say about your old man. Is he really planning to leave the family estate to that bastard cousin of yours, Shen Ziqi?”
Shen Qiu closed his eyes. The cigarette burned down to his fingers. The next moment, he crushed the ember and put it out.
“He can give it away if he wants. No one can take what’s mine, even if they destroy it.” Shen Qiu lifted his gaze, his cold and arrogant expression partially veiled by the smoke.
“That’s good. Let me know if you need anything. Bye, your big brother has to get back to work.”
Brother Tang, his cigarette finished and his conversation with Shen Qiu concluded, felt a weight lift from his heart. His mood had completely cleared.
Shen Qiu walked with his hands shoved into the pockets of his trench coat, his suit trousers sharply creased. A hint of the city’s bustling, down-to-earth atmosphere now tempered the aloof coldness in his eyes. The night streetlights framed him, making him look breathtakingly handsome.
Meng Xinghui watched him, momentarily lost in a daze. He pressed his lips together as a small pebble rolled away into the grass by the curb.
Shen Qiu walked ahead.
Meng Xinghui followed behind him like a little tail. A deep voice reached his ears: “Let’s go home.”
His eyelashes trembled uncontrollably.
Meng Xinghui gripped the doorknob, and the door creaked open just a crack.
A necklace appeared before his eyes. A delicate, lovely white rabbit dangled from it, clutching a white jade carrot, its expression a mix of sorrow and shyness.
“A gift for you.”
When Shen Qiu had first seen the mutton-fat jade at the auction, it had immediately reminded him of the fragile Meng Xinghui—tears falling from the corners of his eyes, his expression pitiful and aggrieved.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to spare the time to attend the auction. It wasn’t until he was later forced into a leave of absence by his father that he finally managed to buy it from President Wang.
Meng Xinghui’s eyes were rimmed with red, his lips parted slightly.
“Stop. I don’t need your thanks. Get some rest; tomorrow will be a long day.” Shen Qiu’s sudden suspense left Meng Xinghui’s heart hanging, as if an invisible pair of hands were kneading it, refusing to let him find peace.
If this had happened when they first met, Meng Xinghui wouldn’t have cared about Shen Qiu’s words. But after witnessing his boyfriend’s infidelity at the hotel, Shen Qiu’s words carried a new, heavier weight.
“Can you tell me now?” Meng Xinghui lifted his gaze, pleading with Boss Shen.
Shen Qiu refused ruthlessly, showing no mercy. “See you tomorrow.”
His figure vanished behind the closing door.
The hallway lights fell upon Meng Xinghui. He gripped the edge of the doorknob and closed the door with a heavy heart.
Leaning against the door, he touched the white jade necklace in his hand. His eyes shone with a faint smile, yet the tears he had held back continued to well up.
As night deepened, his figure remained motionless, but his floating heart beat secretly, yearning to cling to the bright moon.
The rich aroma of coffee filled the air as the two sat opposite each other.
Under the table, Meng Xinghui’s fingers tapped nervously, his gaze flickering to the man across from him.
Shen Qiu wore a casual long-sleeved shirt today, the cuffs covering his wrist bones. His thin lips pressed against the rim of the cup as the bitterness spread across his tongue.
The bitter taste awakened his dormant nerves.
“They are the teachers I’ve hired. From now on, they will teach you according to your schedule. You need to take the Gaokao next June.”
Meng Xinghui looked up in disbelief, his eyes filled with shock. “I have to study?”
Shen Qiu gave a soft hum of confirmation.
“Study hard,” Shen Qiu instructed, leaving the still-dazed Meng Xinghui to the teachers.
One of the teachers, wearing glasses, spoke first. “Hello, Mr. Meng. I am Wang Huawei, and I will be teaching you mathematics.”
The others followed suit, introducing themselves one by one.
They were puzzled as to why President Shen had paid a fortune to hire a group of professors to teach this young man. However, their curiosity was short-lived, quickly replaced by a profound sense of pity for their new student.
They mourned his wasted talent and lamented his stupidity.
Meng Xinghui stared at the exam papers for various subjects laid out on the table, his hand trembling as he gripped the pen.
Shen Qiu, maybe I should just go back to washing dishes.