Chapter 30: Glaring
The Jinhu Residence.
Li Yuan rang the doorbell repeatedly, but no one answered.
Jiang Shijin and Su Yi had both left—driven away by Zhou Lin.
Zhou Lin didn't want to see anyone right now.
Beep—
The door unlocked with the passcode.
The entryway light automatically turned on.
Li Yuan’s shadow stretched across the floor, lengthening slowly.
The living room lights were off, but the TV was on, its silent screen flickering between light and dark like a shadow play across Zhou Lin’s face.
He didn’t move or look up, as if he already knew Li Yuan would come. When he called him “brother,” there was a childlike intimacy in his tone.
“When did you get back?” Zhou Lin’s voice was terribly hoarse.
After smoking so much these days and staying up night after night, all he got was a hoarse voice.
How fortunate he was.
Li Yuan let out a soft sigh.
His cousin had everything—looks, character, brains—but he had been spoiled too much and too thoroughly.
A rose raised in a greenhouse, so delicate that no one could bear to watch it wither.
He walked over and sat down beside Zhou Lin.
The takeout meal he had brought back was originally cold, but it seemed Zhou Lin needed something warm and comforting right now.
“I’ve seen Wen Bairan.”
Zhou Lin’s dark pupils, fixed on the TV, flickered. He turned, and Li Yuan’s calm, gentle profile appeared profound in the dim light, making him frown tightly. “What did you say to her?”
The entertainment program on TV was recorded outdoors; the vast sea paired with a bright filter, the majestic azure coast lay silent.
Li Yuan smiled slightly at the scene. “A-Lin, do you know why I admire you?”
Although the Zhou family had labeled him a good-for-nothing, he wasn’t really the empty-headed type.
See? He knew exactly what to ask.
Zhou Lin couldn’t decipher the approval in Li Yuan’s smile at that moment.
Unlike Wen Bairan, Zhou Lin’s obedience to Li Yuan was tinged with an innate fear rather than admiration.
Perhaps it was because Li Yuan could always see through him with just a few words, or because while everyone around them was still a child, Li Yuan was already sitting at the adults’ table discussing current affairs. Or maybe it was because, despite looking not much older, Li Yuan carried a mysterious, unattainable depth.
Humans instinctively submit to strength. Since childhood, Zhou Lin had listened to Li Yuan more than anyone else.
He never hid himself in front of Li Yuan because it was useless.
Li Yuan had said, the more you conceal, the more wretched you become.
Honesty was the best way to face him.
Zhou Lin laughed hoarsely. “Because I’m handsome?”
He said it without any self-mockery, the pride and cheekiness flashing in his eyes like a mischievous high school student.
Li Yuan was taken aback for a moment, then laughed and reached out to pat his face. “You little rascal, not a hint of shame.”
The gesture carried a hint of arrogance.
But Zhou Lin didn’t dodge.
He was used to it.
Used to being treated like a failure.
Although Li Yuan had never looked at him with the eyes of someone judging a failure, he still somewhat saw Zhou Lin as an immature child.
Zhou Lin had wondered before—why did everyone write him off? Was he really that useless?
He had tried to think about it, but it got him nowhere.
The more he thought, the more frustrated he became.
And when frustrated, he refused to think further.
The anger filling his mind and chest rendered him helpless.
He quieted down, staring at some unknown point ahead.
This quiet wasn’t truly silent; it was more like a fire burning in a vacuum, unsure where to go after consuming its own oxygen.
The living room was dark, the dim blue glow from the massive screen reflecting a stark white on Li Yuan’s tilted glasses.
Earlier in the café, Wen Bairan had said there was no possibility left between her and Zhou Lin, that his current turmoil was temporary, and after this period passed, he would return to his old ways—eating, drinking, having fun, enjoying life. She told Li Yuan not to worry, that they both understood Zhou Lin was born to live a life of pleasure.
Li Yuan had smiled and asked, with a hint of reproach in his words, “There’s a bit of resentment in that, isn’t there? Do you still blame him?”
Wen Bairan was silent for a long time before calmly replying, “I don’t blame him. I’ve just given up on him.”
Given up.
A word filled with finality and resignation.
Hearing those words from an outsider’s perspective, Li Yuan felt both deeply shaken and regretful.
It was as if he were witnessing two once-innocent, passionate souls embracing fiercely, consuming each other, and in their inability to yield, having no choice but to tear themselves apart to avoid evaporating entirely.
In the silent void, someone’s sigh drifted away.
Vanishing into the night.
After a long while.
“A-Lin, I can give you a chance.”
Li Yuan's tone lowered, but it was still gentle and patient, as if whatever Zhou Lin decided, he would respect his decision.
He asked him, "Are you willing to give it a try?"
//
The weekend flew by.
Wen Bairan didn't find out Zhong Yu had arrived until she got to work.
She heard she arrived on Saturday night.
Qiao Yi got a call from Song Xu in the middle of the night, telling her to find a short-term rental near Xieli Road.
Wen Bairan: "Xieli Road?"
That's a prime location.
It's by the river and next to the pedestrian street, surrounded by all the commercial and lifestyle amenities you could want—restaurants, cafes, bars, and nightclubs are aplenty.
But because the entertainment is so concentrated, there are also many tourists, and it's noisy nonstop from morning to night.
Song Xu picked such a busy spot?
"Wasn't him. It was for Zhong Yu."
Qiao Yi waved a hand: "Dayun has an office in Shenjiang, right near Xieli Road. Pure convenience."
Oh, that makes sense.
Wen Bairan thought for a moment: "Apartments there are tough to find; it's mostly hotels or vacation rentals. Maybe just book her an extended-stay hotel?"
After saying that, she felt that if it were a hotel, Song Xu is staying at the W Hotel, which isn't far from there, and Zhong Yu would probably rather just stay with him.
Thinking this, Wen Bairan instinctively looked toward Song Xu's office—and stopped short.
His office was empty.
It was already ten o'clock, and Song Xu, the workaholic, hadn't shown up yet. What was he doing?
"I looked at hotels too, but she shot them down. She's so picky, it's driving me crazy." Qiao Yi blew her whole day off yesterday, scoured listings and dug up a few options. She still has three left to see and plans to check them out during her lunch break today. If any are suitable, she'll lock one down fast.
She wanted Wen Bairan to go with her, and as she spoke, she saw Wen Bairan staring in the direction of Song Xu's office. A thought suddenly struck her.
"Hey, wait a second—how come I'm stuck doing this again? Aren't you his secretary? How come he called me and not you?"
Song Xu is hard enough to deal with during the day, but at night he's next-level cold.
Hearing his voice in the middle of the night had so startled Qiao Yi she was up until dawn.
Wen Bairan: "..."
She wasn't wrong.
After their argument in the parking garage after work on Friday, Song Xu's expression, shrouded in shadow before he got out of the car, was icy cold.
Wen Bairan still couldn't bear to think about it.
'You're even less qualified.'
...
The comeback had felt good in the moment, but after she got home, she started worrying about how to face him at work.
Although Song Xu is someone who separates personal and professional matters, what if she made him so angry that he held a grudge and made her life difficult?
Quit *again*?
She doesn't want to quit again.
And definitely not over something like... *that*.
Qiao Yi was still glaring at her, so Wen Bairan fibbed: "He said you're more capable than I am."
Qiao Yi looked skeptical. "Seriously?"
No one said it out loud, but everyone could see Song Xu was pretty happy with her work.
"Really." Wen Bairan nodded, dead serious. "Be prepared—he might move you back to be his secretary today."
"..."
"You're kidding me!" Qiao Yi covered her face and wailed: "Is it my destiny to be doomed like this?!"
Wen Bairan didn't have the heart to tell her the truth and gave her a comforting pat: "My sympathies."
...
After work at noon, she went with Qiao Yi to see the rental properties.
The first two had their issues, but the last one was quite nice—spacious, bright, and the bedroom had a river view.
Song Xu hadn't shown up all morning, so they needed his okay to finalize it.
Qiao Yi tried video-calling him twice, but he didn't answer.
Two minutes later, he texted back on WeChat.
[Master Song]: This one.
"Damn! No wonder he wasn't here all morning—he's with Zhong Yu." Qiao Yi shoved her phone in Wen Bairan's face. "Look!"
"..." It was too close. Wen Bairan leaned back instinctively, her eyes drawn to the contact name.
That night, when she told Song Xu that everyone below him was afraid of him, his completely unfazed expression made it seem like he already knew.
She really should have asked him then if he knew everyone privately called him Master Song.
Well, he probably knew.
He may appear expressionless, but he's more clear-headed than anyone. His sharp, critical eyes are keener than a knife—if he strikes unexpectedly, those who can't defend themselves will only end up hurt and in tears.
As the saying goes, the devil may be powerful, but the Tao is stronger. Song Xu's "Tao" has the entire company firmly under his control.
Pushing Qiao Yi's hand away, Wen Bairan asked how she could be so sure Song Xu was with Zhong Yu based on one message.
"Is that even a question? Didn't you see how fast he replied? This rental is for Zhong Yu. How could he decide so quickly without showing it to her? It only took two minutes from when he hung up the video to when he replied! Two minutes isn't even enough for him to call Zhong Yu. I bet they're together! Maybe Zhong Yu is in his arms right now, shyly saying: 'Oh, you're so wonderful. This place is perfect, let's take it.'" Qiao Yi got more and into it, even acting out a scene.
Honestly, she captured about seventy to eighty percent of Zhong Yu's expression, even mimicking the way she adjusts her glasses perfectly.
Wen Bairan immediately recalled how Zhong Yu gazed longingly at Song Xu during the dinner that day.
She broke out in goosebumps, "...And she’s already snagged Song Xu in just one weekend?"
"What do you expect? That's just how men are. A woman just needs to act coy and throw herself at him—does he need to buy flowers or diamond rings?" Qiao Yi efficiently waved the agent over to get the contract and pulled Wen Bairan toward the window, saying, "Look, isn’t this place something? Damn, six thousand a month! Master Song is really generous!"
Outside the window, the sun was blazing, and the river shimmered with dazzling ripples.
Facing this unobstructed river view, Wen Bairan’s slightly narrowed pupils gleamed with a cool, thoughtful light.
//
The contract with Xirui progressed quickly.
Outsiders didn’t know that this collaboration wasn’t just business—it also involved personal ties.
Xiang Sun, the son of Xirui’s chairman, was Song Xu’s classmate at UCLA. The two had been on good terms even back in school.
Xiang Sun had returned to China two years earlier than Song Xu, and they had agreed to meet up once Song Xu came back.
Last time when Song Xu went to Xixiang for the ribbon-cutting, Xiang Sun was away on a business trip. Now that Xiang Sun was in Shenjiang for work these couple of days, he invited Song Xu to accompany him.
Naturally, Song Xu had to fulfill his host duties.
After a day of acting as guide, the driver dropped them off at the hotel in the evening. As they got out of the car, Xiang Sun stopped him.
"Song, sorry about today."
At the hotel entrance, the opulent lobby shone brightly in the night.
Song Xu stood tall, not turning around. His eyes, tinged with a faint haze of alcohol, glanced back, the sharp red at their corners strikingly intense.
From inside the car, Xiang Sun only saw the jacket lightly lifted on his arm, signaling he could go.
Xiang Sun hesitated, wanting to say more but holding back.
His old classmate was excellent in every way, except he was too strong-willed.
Back in the day, over a minor incident, Song Xu had nearly sued the entire school. His vengeful nature had made him notorious in the Chinese alumni circle—no one dared cross him.
Tonight, it seemed like he hadn’t said anything, but his current silence spoke volumes about his displeasure.
Xiang Sun truly didn’t know what the relationship was between him and that secretary, but being so protective was a bit excessive.
Then again, he had always been this unreasonable.
Sigh.
The car door closed, and the sleek black business sedan started and drove off.
Song Xu entered the hotel.
The elevator arrived quickly.
He stepped in and leaned against one side.
Two others followed him in, squeezing the space, making it increasingly stuffy.
His index finger slipped into the gap between his tie and throat, hooked it, and tugged forcefully to loosen it. The buttons at the collar of his shirt came undone in succession, the flushed skin on his chest exuding an alluring warmth in the shadow of his lowered head.
The two scantily clad women next to him were drawn in by the faint scent of alcohol on him. Their admiring gazes grew bolder, and one of them took half a step back, leaning in to ask softly, "Hey handsome, my phone’s dead. Can I borrow yours?"
Most people wouldn’t refuse such a request from a girl.
This trick always worked.
Ding.
The 36th floor arrived.
The man’s thin, narrow eyelids lifted slightly, a small shadow falling at the corners of his eyes. His deep, cold gaze swept over them like a wind, his low, rich voice uttering a blunt "No." just as the elevator doors slowly closed, leaving the word trapped inside the cabin.
3602.
The key card was tapped lightly against the door.
The lock clicked open.
In the dark, empty room, the man walked toward the sofa, the buttons on his jacket clinking crisply against the glass coffee table.
His tall frame slid deep into the back of the couch, his long arms stretching out to rest on either side. The soft cushion beneath supported his weary head as Song Xu closed his eyes, quietly savouring the relaxation brought by the night.
Outside the window, the moon hung high.
Its pale, cold light crept soundlessly across the floor, climbing slowly up the hem of his black trousers, then his calves—weightless, coiling around his knees, continuing its gradual ascent.
In the dry air, a faint hint of orange blossom drifted almost imperceptibly.
At this moment, the alert nerves in his brain were already awake.
Yet his body remained completely still.
Until a pair of delicate, boneless hands appeared in the darkness before him, and his Adam’s apple moved imperceptibly.
A raw, metallic taste spread through his chest.
The warm pulse at the woman’s wrist pressed against his temple,
beating,
once,
then again.
Song Xu opened his eyes. The playful, light teasing in his ear suddenly vanished. "Guess who I am—"