As Duan Xingge’s words fell, the eyes of everyone in the room shifted to Yun Qi.
Yun Qi: “…”
Duan Xingge had meant it as a casual remark, and seeing Yun Qi remain silent, he merely smiled. He seemed accustomed to Yun Qi’s coldness; after all, it hadn’t been long since he had tricked Yun Qi onto this dating show. The fact that Yun Qi hadn’t simply stood up and walked out upon seeing him crash the dinner uninvited was already giving him a great deal of face.
Duan Xingge had braced himself for being ignored, but to his surprise, Yun Qi spoke quietly: “I didn’t know you were coming, so I wasn’t prepared. Put it on the tab.”
Duan Xingge paused. This time, it was his turn to be surprised, though he quickly regained his composure and laughed. “Very well, put it on the tab. I’ll be sure to collect when you’ve decided on the penalty, President Yun.”
Mu Jinrong, who had invited Duan Xingge on his own initiative without consulting Yun Qi, had been feeling anxious. Seeing that the relationship between the two wasn’t as icy as the rumors suggested, he let out a sigh of relief and laughed. “I almost let my daughter fool me—before I met you two in person, I really thought you were at odds… It seems the rumors online are all nonsense.”
Duan Xingge had expected Yun Qi to retort with sarcasm, but to his surprise, Yun Qi just offered a vague, indifferent response. While others didn’t notice, Duan Xingge saw clearly that Yun Qi was distracted and mentally checked out.
With everyone present, Mu Jinrong hurriedly signaled for the food and wine to be served, taking the opportunity to chat about the partnership. Duan Xingge balanced his social obligations while carefully observing Yun Qi.
In truth, Yun Qi’s heart had been in a state of chaos since the moment Duan Xingge entered the room. The anxious face he remembered from the depths of the ocean collided with reality, throwing Yun Qi—who had yet to fully recover from the sensation of death into a tailspin. Ever since he woke up that morning, he had been forcing himself to believe Duan Xingge was fine, but after convincing himself, he had deliberately avoided thinking about it, choosing instead to focus on finding the culprit.
But seeing the man standing alive before him, Yun Qi realized he had been lying to himself all along. He cared deeply, yet he had been desperately trying to paint over the cracks and pretend everything was normal.
Course after course of exquisite food arrived. Once the appetizers were served and the wine poured, the dinner officially began. Mu Jinrong had gone to great lengths to invite the heads of these two brands, so it wasn’t just for a simple meal. Sure enough, after a couple of drinks, he subtly hinted at a desire for a partnership.
Yun Qi remained noncommittal, but Duan Xingge was remarkably generous, agreeing as soon as the suggestion was made. Mu Jinrong was overjoyed, and after a moment of consideration, Yun Qi also loosened his stance, and the atmosphere at the table grew lively.
However, this liveliness had little to do with Yun Qi and everything to do with Duan Xingge. For every sentence Yun Qi spoke, Duan Xingge seemed to speak ten; he was remarkably smooth and multifaceted. No matter what someone said, he could jump right in with a seamless, impenetrable rebuttal, just as flawless as his performance under the camera lens.
Only Yun Qi knew how fake Duan Xingge’s performance was and how vast the gap was between the man and his act. Yun Qi glanced at him while drinking water and noticed that Duan Xingge had even dressed in a white suit today much like a peacock fanning its tail. Without bias, the suit fit him well, and he was undeniably handsome; it was no wonder his fans loved seeing him in formal wear.
But in reality, Duan Xingge detested suits and anything with complicated layers; to be more extreme, he hated wearing clothes altogether. When he was in high school, he loved going shirtless regardless of the season. During the summer after his college entrance exams, he particularly liked cooking for Yun Qi shirtless, wearing nothing but an apron, which had been an eyesore for Yun Qi.
While others went through puberty in middle school, Duan Xingge was different. Once he turned eighteen, he seemed to drop the act entirely; his college years were his wildest phase. At the time, Wen Fenglin had nearly squandered all the assets Yun Mingyue had left behind. Yun Qi waited for the right moment, refusing to act until he was certain. Duan Xingge, however, cared for none of that. With an incredibly flexible moral compass, he infuriated monsters like Wen Fenglin to the point where the man pointed a finger at him and cursed him for being a “wild dog.”
Duan Xingge played the villain so well that even when Wen Fenglin lay on his deathbed, tubes snaking all over his body, he never realized his son’s true heart. Instead, he slapped his bed, his eyes bulging, and warned Yun Qi to be careful. Yun Qi had merely replied coolly: “Don’t worry. Even if I died one day, I’d rather give the money to him than to your illegitimate child. You can rest easy.”
When Wen Fenglin realized what he meant, his eyes widened in disbelief; he slammed his hand on the bed, too choked with rage to speak, and could only point at Yun Qi with furious, impotent frustration.
Not long after, Wen Fenglin became completely paralyzed. Duan Xingge went to visit him specifically. The handsome college student stood before the hospital bed, revealing a devilish smile: “I told you to give me the address of that illegitimate child so I could give you a peaceful ending… What a pity.”
Duan Xingge dropped the smile, squinting at the man who glared at him with hatred: “You were a parasite, yet even at death’s door, you dared to try and transfer money away. Since you chose to stand with that mother and son, you have to accept the consequences. After all, you brought this on yourself.”
Yun Qi stood outside the room, hearing Wen Fenglin’s desperate, shrill curses: “You… you’re a monster! You’re just a dog on the bed of that bitch Yun Qi… the two of you are disgusting… Yun Mingyue, that slut, shouldn’t have let you through the door… cough, cough!”
When he finished cursing, Yun Qi told the private doctor next to him: “Take good care of Wen Fenglin. The assets haven’t been recovered yet; don’t let him die easily.”
A fortune-hunting parasite, who had risen on his wife’s success, only to seek out lovers, sire an illegitimate child, and even plot to divide Mingyun’s shares. But no matter how much effort it had taken Yun Qi to protect his mother’s legacy, these grievances of the rich and powerful were now, in the face of death and rebirth, utterly insignificant.
Yun Qi set down his glass. Neither he nor Duan Xingge had drunk any alcohol, but Mu Jinrong across from them was already half-drunk. Having secured two partnerships, his mood was excellent, and with a good mood came excess words.
“President Duan, your name… Xingge… it’s truly beautiful,” Mu Jinrong praised while intoxicated. “‘Stars cloud the frosty sky, flowing light reflects the colorful pavilion…'”
“You’re a man of letters, President Mu, and your taste is excellent,” Duan Xingge said, as if touched to the heart, his smile becoming more sincere. “Come to think of it, because the name was so good, I once got into a fight over it.”
“Really?” Mu Jinrong was immediately interested. “Did you win?”
“Of course I won,” Duan Xingge said, feeling more pride than shame. “Although it was one against five, that was because…”
He didn’t finish the sentence, swallowing the rest. Fortunately, Mu Jinrong was too drunk to notice, his attention diverted by the topic changing. Yun Qi knew exactly what Duan Xingge hadn’t said.
“That was a name given to me by my brother personally; how could I dare not to win?”
The cause of that fight had been quite simple. Duan Xingge had transferred to a famous local elite school in middle school thanks to the Yun family’s connections. His mother, Duan Yun, had been endlessly grateful, reminding him three times a day to keep a low profile. Duan Xingge, however, having scored first in his grade on his first monthly exam after transferring, didn’t give anyone the time of day. After losing face to him several times, a few wealthy heirs in his grade were enraged; after school, they blocked Duan Xingge in an alleyway, mocking him for being nothing more than a nanny’s son who didn’t even know who his father was, forced to take his mother’s surname a true “wild seed.”
Duan Xingge, faced with such abuse, didn’t get angry; instead, he raised an eyebrow and retorted: “A wild seed for taking my mother’s name? Then what are you lot for taking your father’s name? A father-having, mother-less bastard?”
The impact of those words was lethal; the group, sprayed with such venom, exploded in anger. One man shouted indiscriminately: “You talk so filthily, I think ‘Duan the Wild Dog’ fits you better! What makes you think you’re worthy of that name!”
That sentence hit the tiger’s spine. Duan Xingge’s smile vanished, his eyes turning terrifyingly dark. “What did you say?”
The man, thinking he had hit a nerve, said triumphantly: “I said—you aren’t worthy of that… Ah!”
Before he could finish, Duan Xingge’s fist smashed into him.
When Yun Qi arrived at the police station, Duan Xingge had just finished getting bandaged. The sight of blood seeping through the bandages made his heart ache. The boy sat there, looking guilty when he saw Yun Qi, completely stripped of the “god of war” aura he’d had while taking on five people. Yun Qi had learned the cause of the fight on his way there and walked straight up to him.
“…Brother.” Duan Xingge looked up at him. “They said I wasn’t worthy of being called Xingge.”
“I named you.” Yun Qi carried the jacket he had brought for him, squatted halfway, and looked at him with utmost seriousness. “If I say you’re worthy, you’re worthy.”
“Really?” Duan Xingge, who had nearly beaten the guts out of a group of people, suddenly felt aggrieved. “You won’t… take the name back, will you?”
“No.” Yun Qi raised a hand and draped the jacket over his shoulders. “Let’s go, let’s go home.”
People say that in every trade, one can become a master, but Duan Xingge seemed desperate to be a master of three hundred and sixty trades. As Yun Qi reminisced, Duan Xingge was already chatting with Mu Jinrong about raising dogs, speaking with such conviction.
“Whether it’s raising a dog or anything else, there’s a saying,” Duan Xingge said with certainty. “Once you give it a name, it can’t run away. No matter how far it runs, it knows the way home. And the slightly more spiritual ones will follow you into the next life.”
Yun Qi’s heart skipped a beat, his water cup knocking against the china saucer with a crisp sound. Mu Jinrong was startled by the noise, his drunkenness fading slightly. He looked up hurriedly: “President Yun, do you have a different opinion?”
“It’s nothing,” Yun Qi suppressed the thrill of the moment. “But that’s not necessarily true.”
Mu Jinrong didn’t understand what riddle they were speaking in: “Why isn’t it true?”
“Even with a name, they can still get lost,” Yun Qi said, wiping the water off his glass. “The one I had before got lost.”
Mu Jinrong thought he had truly lost a pet and was about to offer words of comfort, but Duan Xingge interjected enigmatically: “Maybe he wanted to give you a surprise. Besides, you didn’t go looking for him; maybe if you had, he would have come home.”
Yun Qi said coldly: “If he wants to come back, he can come back; if not, he doesn’t have to.”
The dinner ended with Mu Jinrong predictably drunk, leaving after stumbling through his goodbyes. This development felt eerily familiar. Yun Qi’s eyelid twitched; for once, his guard was high. While Duan Xingge was out taking a phone call, Yun Qi prepared to be the second to leave, specifically choosing an elevator that was hidden and far from the private room.
He hadn’t expected to fall short by one step. The moment the elevator door opened on the first floor, he looked up and bumped straight into Duan Xingge, who was on the phone at the elevator entrance.
Yun Qi: “…”
Duan Xingge seemed surprised to see him, raising an eyebrow, but he didn’t avoid him, continuing his call: “If they want to bundle us for hype, let them. Don’t worry about it; they’ll have plenty to cry about soon enough.”
Yun Qi took the opportunity while he was on the phone to walk away with his secretary. But as he brushed past Duan Xingge, the man grabbed his wrist.
“Miss, could you wait for a moment at the door?” Duan Xingge hung up the phone and smiled politely at Secretary Yang. “I need a word with President Yun.”
The scene played out again, and Yun Qi felt a shiver down his spine. The salty bitterness of the ocean seemed to waft over him again; he could never forget the look in Duan Xingge’s eyes before he closed his own. His attitude toward Duan Xingge softened out of sheer helplessness, and he finally defaulted to silence, but the boy was completely ungrateful. Secretary Yang saw that Yun Qi didn’t object, so she nodded tactfully and walked out with the briefcase.
This elevator was already remote, and the space at the entrance wasn’t spacious. Once the secretary left, the area felt even more claustrophobic. It was considered impolite to wear gloves to a banquet, so Yun Qi had uncharacteristically skipped them today, only to have the brat take advantage of it. It wasn’t enough for Duan Xingge to hold his wrist; he had to move his hand up.
“Speak if you have something to say.” The moment those fingertips touched the back of his hand, Yun Qi’s scalp tingled. He gritted his teeth as if someone had stepped on his tail: “I’m warning you, there’s surveillance here.”
“So what if there’s surveillance?” Duan Xingge didn’t address the main issue, instead smiling with a rogueish persistence. “If holding hands were a crime, I wouldn’t have had to worry about whether or not to live on campus in high school; I would’ve just gone straight to a prison cell.”
Yun Qi was furious: “You”
Yun Qi was so angry he couldn’t speak, unable to pull his hand back. But the person restraining him wasn’t having an easy time either. Duan Xingge’s eyes were dark, looking visibly displeased. His displeasure stemmed from the fact that Yun Qi couldn’t have been born wearing gloves, and before he had started wearing them, he had long been accustomed to Duan Xingge’s touch.
Yun Qi had learned jewelry design at eight, and he hadn’t truly formed the habit of not wanting people to touch his hands until he was about twelve. But those “people” had never included Duan Xingge. Even during the summer after Duan Xingge’s college entrance exams, the boy could still use his favored status to boldly remove Yun Qi’s gloves and lead him by the hand to dinner.
Yun Qi was just like his mother, Yun Mingyue—efficient in all things, but a complete blockhead when it came to romance. He had no idea what kind of feelings the puppy he was raising was hiding. He was happy to be doted on, letting the other hold his hands, be intimate, and hug him. But by the time he finally came to his senses, the core of the blockhead had already been swallowed by someone else.
Everything changed drastically after Duan Xingge revealed his fangs. It was only then that Duan Xingge realized habits aren’t unchangeable. In just a few short years, Yun Qi’s body had subconsciously moved him into the “outsider” category.
Yun Qi, having no idea what Duan Xingge was going crazy about, squeezed out through his teeth: “…What exactly do you want?”
Duan Xingge didn’t show his hand, instead curling his lips and luring him: “Actually, nothing much. Just… President Yun seems to have put me on his blacklist?”
Yun Qi: “…You’ve done every deceitful and manipulative thing in the book; shouldn’t I have put you on the blacklist?”
“Sigh, how can you call it deceit?” Duan Xingge laughed softly. “Please, President Yun, unblock me. We’re partners now; it’ll be easier to stay in touch… I’m sure you don’t want to see me appear at your office door one morning, do you?”
As the two biggest brands in the industry, everyone knew Mingyun and Xingyun were competitors. If Duan Xingge ever went crazy and walked swaggeringly into the Mingyun building, the stock prices of both companies would face a magnitude-ten earthquake.
Yun Qi gritted his teeth internally, but finding no other way, he unblocked Duan Xingge right in front of him.
As he fled in a panic, Yun Qi felt a shadow cast over the place; if anyone dared to host a dinner there again, he would never accept the invitation. For the next half-month, Duan Xingge, who had used every method to unblock himself, didn’t send a single message. Yun Qi had no idea the man was playing a “hard-to-get” game and instead felt deeply relieved by the peace.
Because he had to film the second season, Yun Qi had lost nearly a month of design time. To make up for this, he spent his days in the design studio and his nights learning to swim. Someone who has experienced death in water will subconsciously develop a fear of it, but fortunately, Yun Qi didn’t know how to spell the word “fear,” so he quickly adapted to the water.
Days passed. Yun Qi had listed several suspects, but he discarded them all for lack of clues, and the matter returned to a stalemate. Fortunately, the second season was approaching, and everything was about to surface. When Yun Qi looked up from his design, lacking inspiration, he suddenly realized a half-month had flown by. Next Monday was the airing of the second season.
Finding no inspiration, Yun Qi set down his pen and opened his phone. The online reaction was exactly as expected; the fans, having waited over a month, were restless. As soon as the Weibo announcement dropped, the comments section exploded:
“Called for a thousand times, and now it’s here.”
“Good, good, good, Season 2 is finally here!”
“It’s all you BT (perverts) being so scary; my treasure doesn’t even dare to work at the cake shop anymore.”
“Hehe, maybe Jiao-bao has already been kidnapped by President Yun to be a canary.”
“My Xing won’t be the first to agree; we’re both ‘President’ level bidding on stocks should be competitive and equal.”
“Good, good, good! I want to see blood flowing like a river! Season 2, hurry up!”
Yun Qi glanced at them and lost interest, once again turning his gaze to the semi-finished product in his hands. This time, he had a flash of inspiration, but before he could draw a few lines, the person he had unblocked half a month ago finally couldn’t hold back and sent a message: “I’ve already negotiated the breach-of-contract fee with them. If you don’t want to participate in the second season, let me know. Don’t worry about the money.”
Yun Qi replied: “No need, filming as usual.”
That one sentence must have stepped on Duan Xingge’s tail, for not long after, another message arrived, containing a barely concealed test: “You didn’t want to go during the first season, did you? How did you suddenly change your mind as soon as the first season ended?”
He was at a critical point in his design and frowned at the draft, feeling annoyed at the interruption. He scanned the phone without thinking and replied offhandedly: “Looking for someone.”
Subconsciously, he never had his guard up against Duan Xingge. It wasn’t until a while after the message had been sent that he snapped back to reality, realizing he had exposed secrets from his past life. Yun Qi scrambled to put down his pen, but before he could explain, Duan Xingge, unable to contain his impatience, called him.
Yun Qi’s heart shot into his throat; he picked up the phone, wanting to say: “I”
Duan Xingge’s voice, a mixture of righteous indignation and wounded questioning, erupted: “Who are you looking for?”